


The Spark and the Koschei

by Scotty1609



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Stiles, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Derek is a Failwolf, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Panic Attacks, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles, Single Parent Stiles, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Triggers, and derek wants the d, and pancakes, possible triggers, post 3b, stiles is a dilf, stiles speaks polish, un-beta'd, whut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:56:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scotty1609/pseuds/Scotty1609
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan was surprised. Astonished. He opened the door to see a bloody-looking man with a soul patch and bags under his eyes, moles dotting his blood-speckled face. He held a little girl to his chest tightly, her own tiny fists grasping his hoodie in a death-grip. “Please,” the man croaked, and Ethan almost lost his shit.<br/>“S-Stiles?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Don't Say Bad Words

**Author's Note:**

> While picking his daughter up from school, a young man comes to realize that their lives are in danger as they are being followed...  
> (I don't own Teen Wolf.)

The young man felt shivers wrack his frame and he tugged his hoodie and denim jacket tighter around his shoulders, looking up past the heads of several parents and guardians that were also clustered at the school. It was mid autumn and chilly, reminiscent of his hometown and bringing melancholy memories up to the young man's conscious mind. He shrugged, looking around for a head of honey beige curls and bright eyes. As if knowing he was looking for her, a little girl cried out, “Daddy!” and ran at his legs, latching her arms around his knees.

Nearly knocked off balance, the young man let out a loud “oomph!” and rested his hand on the child's hair. She looked up at him, giggling and chattering on about her day. The man chuckled and picked her up, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. “So you had a good day at school?”

The little girl nodded, beaming, and launched into a story about recess as her father carried her over to his motorcycle. He could feel the dirty looks coming from the parents around him. ' _Screw them. I love my baby girl and I'd never let anything happen to her. She's perfectly safe in the booster seat, and there's even a helmat!'_ Fastening the little girl into the booster seat that had been specially made for her and fastened to the motorcycle by his own hands, the young man put on her helmat and little teal goggles, making sure she was in tight before putting on his own gloves, helmat, and goggles.

“Who's that, Daddy?”

The man looked up, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw the dark, suspicious figure staring at them. It was another man, his eyes dark black and his teeth sharp like knives. “ _Crap._ ”

“Da-”

“Not now, _kochanie_ , Daddy's working on _bezpieczeństwo_ , okay?”

It was their little way of communicating, the Polish. After all, she was born in Poland, and he knew it from his mother. The important thing was that the people chasing them didn't know it, which meant he could speak to her and consol her without the people knowing. ' _Shit, shit, shit,_ shit _. What am I gonna do? Hmm? Whatcha gonna do, Daddy?_ Kochanie _'s counting on you and we haven't seen these guys in_ months _and I had no fucking clue they were here and_ dear God _how long have they known_ we're _here-'_

“Daddy.”

The voice was soft and gentle, much too mature for the little girl who only moments ago was blabbering on about goldfish and Disney princesses. The young man looked at his daughter, who offered him a small smile. “Are you okay? Are we gonna move again?”

Nodding reluctantly, the man kissed the little girl's forehead, revving up his motorcycle. “Yeah, _księżniczka_ , we're moving again.” ' _But where? Jesus Christ, I thought we'd lost them for sure and then- shit._ Shit _. He's coming towards us. Shit, shit,_ shit shit shitshitshit-'

The man took off on his motorcycle, looking backwards to see that the person tailing them had dropped down to all fours and was propelling his body at ridiculously high speeds. “ _Shit_ -”

“Bad Daddy! Bad words!” the little girl behind him exclaimed, kicking up her little feet and hitting his back in protest.

The man chuckled lowly. “Yeah, you're right, sorry, _kochanie_. Daddy's sorry. No more bad words.” ' _But I gotta get this bastard off our tail. Mountain ash it is, then...'_ “ _Chować_ , _kochanie_.”

The little girl obliged her father without retaliation, ducking her head down as he turned and threw a large handful of sparkling black grains backwards, whispering a few words in Latin and watching with a smirk as a tornado of black ash consumed the man following them. He turned around, smiling at the victory- but only for a moment. Four other men- creatures, with black eyes and fangs and soulless bodies- burst out in front of him, making him swear and swirve, turning abruptly onto a small country road. His daughter shrieked, clinging onto her stuffed bunny like a lifeline as tears of fear welled in her eyes. “Stay down, _księżniczka_!” he ordered her over his shoulder, speeding up the bike as he left behind the town, left behind their belongings and their home and their friends, one hand going behind him to wrap around his baby girl's tiny hand. He was leaving. He was taking his daughter and leaving, leaving like how they always left, with their tails between their legs and monsters on their haunches, nipping at their heels.

_'I need help,'_ the young man admitted to himself, glancing at the little girl's tear-streaked face. 'We _need help... Dammit...'_

With a flick of his wrist, the man launched his motorcycle down a different path, heading west rather than north. ' _I need my pack.'_


	2. The Spark and the Kosechi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles shows up at Ethan's and Danny's house in the middle of the night, bleeding and holding a little girl. And things only get crazier from there when the hooded figures attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I don't own Teen Wolf.)

Ethan was exhausted.

Earlier that day he and Danny and just finished moving in to their new house, a little cottage-like thing on the outskirts of Beaon Hills, not quite inside of the forest, but on the edge of it. Derek and Allison had suggested the area for the reason being that Danny was still uneasy about his powers and being around large masses of people. That, and Ethan preffered solitude, unalike his party-animal brother who was rooming with a hesitant Isaac and Erica up at Berkley. The twins had changed a lot from high school, especially after Peter's mojo and the whole nogitsune bringing Erica and Boyd back to life and everything else that went bat-shit crazy.

Ethan rubbed at his face, not wanting to think about what had happened not but five years ago, what had almost killed Danny and almost drove Aiden insane. What _had_ driven Stiles insane.

Going into his new kitchen, Ethan took note of the small unfinished details that needed suturing, getting out a glass and a whiskey bottle. Beer wasn't enough to get werewolves buzzed, but whiskey could give them a sleepy bristle is they had enough.

It was two in the morning, so Ethan wasn't expecting the knock on his door. His ears twitched, eyes flashing blue before he growled low in his throat. It was only moments before Danny was at the bottom of the stairs, his own eyes flashing a brilliant yellow as he looked at Ethan, trying to control his shift. Raising a placating hand, Ethan gestured for his boyfriend to calm down and back up. It could just be a lost traveler, passing through. ' _Right. When is it ever just a lost traveler?'_

When he used his heat vision, Ethan was surprised. Astonished. He opened the door to see a bloody-looking man with a soul patch and bags under his eyes, moles dotting his blood-speckled face. He held a little girl to his chest tightly, her own tiny fists grasping his hoodie in a death-grip. “Please,” the man croaked, and Ethan almost lost his shit.

“S-Stiles?”

“There are- there are shifters after us,” Stiles gasped out, looking over his shoulder anxiously. “I led them astray, but I don't know how far away they are. I've hidden our scents with charms, but that hasn't seemed to stop them before, either. And- and I saw the cottage and Lydia said something in an email about you guys making a house and I knew it was a long shot but- but I needed help- _need_ help, and-”

Ethan grabbed Stiles and pulled him inside the house, locking the door. Danny propped a chair up under the knob, nodding at his boyfriend as he went back into their bedroom to call for reinforcements. “How many are there?” Ethan asked Stiles as he sat the young man down, handing him a blanket for the shivering little girl in his arms.

“There were six in the beginning, then- then eight, then four. I- I don't know. I'm sorry, I know I should know but I don't and I've been driving for the past twelve hours straight and _kochanie_ 's been screaming her head off scared and we're starving and bloody and- _goddammit_ this is my favorite jacket and there's freaking _blood_ on it- where's Scott?”

Ethan paused a moment, then shook his head. It had been years since he heard Stiles's crazy babble, but he knew he had a Stiles-to-Werewolf dictionary stashed somewhere that he could dig out later. “Probably at home, in bed. Why?”

Stiles shifted, holding the little girl tighter to his chest- if that were possible. “He- I- We-... He's my brother.” Ethan could hear the unspoken “ _He's safe”_ that lingered in the air, and he gently squeezed his old friend's shoulder.

“He's on his way,” came Danny's voice from the stairs as he appeared again. “Along with Boyd, Derek, and Allison. And if Scott's are coming, so is Kira.”

Stiles nodded again, although his eyes didn't meet Danny's. They seemed to look through him, like he was invisible, as Stiles bit his lip in thought. “Is there anything we can do?” Ethan asked, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced once more at the little girl. Her shivering had subsided, but the layer of anxiety and fear that hung over her wee body was horrid, making Ethan's wolf howl at the fact that someone would make such an innocent child so terrified.

“My bag,” Stiles said, and for once Ethan noticed that the other man was holding a tan duffle and two motorcycle helmats, one little-girl-sized. “There's a bottle labeled _sanguine arietis_. It won't hurt you if you touch it. Rub it on all the doorways and windows, airvents too, just to be safe. I don't know what these things are capable of...”

Ethan found the bottle and handed it off to Danny, who went about bloodying up their house- rather literally, if the smell of the reddish liquid was anything to go by. “What else?”

“Warm milk with honey.”

At Ethan's cocked eyebrow, Stiles nodded to the shell-shocked little girl that was still curling into his chest. Rising and going into the kitchen, Ethan saw Danny rubbing the liquid into the window sill. “What the hell is going on?” he whispered, rubbing his temples. Exhausted and surprised didn't go well together for cranky werewolves. Danny kissed his boyfriend's lips gently, giving him a paltry smile.

“I don't know, but we'll figure it out and we'll help Stiles and that little girl, and everything will go back to normal again, alright?”

“Or as normal as Beacon Hills can be, you mean,” Ethan grumped. Danny rolled his eyes in response before going upstairs to finish his duties.

Five minutes later, the milk and honey was ready and Danny was done. The two men met up next to Stiles, squeezing in together on the loveseat. Stiles urged the child in his arms to sip at the milk, which she finally conceded to, giving Ethan a proper view of her face. She had light tan skin and beige hair, her eyes a beautiful silver gray. A handful of freckles was splayed about over her nose and faded onto her cheeks, her tiny pink lips turning red as she sipped the warm milk. “Thank you,” she said quietly to Ethan, who found himself melting a little under the girl's loving gaze.

“No prob,” he told her honestly. It would do his wolf good to fawn over children a bit more. He wouldn't mind getting to know this little girl better.

All at once the room grew at least thirty degrees colder. The girl whimpered and dropped the mug. No one moved to grab it, letting it shatter on the ground in thin ceramic shrivels. Ethan snarled, feeling an electric tug on the hairs of his arms. He instinctively moved closer towards Ethan and Stiles, his hand going out to rest on Danny's knee. Danny stood, brushing his boyfriend's hand away gently as he stood in a defensive position in front of Stiles and the little girl, sniffing the air. His face contorted in confusion. “Does anyone else smell-”

“Blood,” Stiles whispered to the werewolves' surprise, closing his eyes tightly and pulling his daughter in to his chest, wrapping his body around her. Suddenly, the windows shattered inwards and the little girl screamed bloody murder. Ethan and Danny howled in synch as a dark figure suddenly appeared in the doorway. He was tall, his dark face obscured by a blood red robe. His fingers were long and bony, his shoulders broad and his teeth long fangs. There was silence. A pin could have been dropped a mile away and a human hear it.

And then the thing roared.

And it was gone.

The front door burst open to reveal Scott, eyes bright red and nostrils flaring as his head whipped around, trying to figure out what was going on. Behind him was Boyd, who shoved his way into the room with a snarl, sniffing the air with a protective yellow eye trained on Stiles. Kira slipped in past Scott, running over to Stiles and hugging him tightly, not noticing the little girl until she whimpered and cried out, pushing the woman away. Kira looked on with wide eyes, her mouth open in surprise.

Scott, having shifted back to his human form, approached Stiles. “I don't know what the hell happened, but it's good to see you, ma- aah? Who is this?”

His voice instantly softened when he saw the little girl, and he crouched onto a knee in front of his best friend. Stiles, much more calm in the presence of his pack, relaxed into the loveseat and said in a warm voice, “This is Lana. Lana, _słoneczko_ , this is Daddy's pack. Remember Daddy telling you about his pack?”

The little girl- Lana- nodded into her father's shoulder, peering out at Scott with puffy red eyes. “Mm'hm...” she intoned quietly, making Scott 'aww' and Kira 'coo'. Ethan fought the urge to roll his eyes. The two were perfect for each other.

A knock at the doorway made everyone look up. There stood a chisel-faced, dark-haired man that Ethan knew all-too well. And, from the noise he made in the back of his throat, so did Stiles. “Derek,” Scott greeted amicably as he stood, and Ethan was suddenly reminded that Scott and Stiles were actually _friends_ with Derek, unalike Ethan and Aiden, who were only allies with the man. ' _Then again, we did kinda_ kill _Boyd and Erica... then again, we did also_ apologize _to both Boyd and Erica...'_

Derek stepped inside, his frown taking his eyebrows down on his forehead. “Stiles is hurt.”

It was the first time that anyone realized that Stiles wasn't only blood-speckled, but was also currently _bleeding_. “I'm fine,” Stiles objected, although anyone could hear the sleepy slur in his voice.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Scott said, only to flinch backwards when Stiles shouted 'NO!'.

“No,” Stiles repeated. “N-No hospital...”

Ethan frowned, confused. And then it hit him like a freight train. ' _The nogitsune... Stiles has PTSD, right? Shit, no wonder he's terrified of hospitals...'_ Scott, seeming to have figured out the same, nodded. “Okay, just- just let my mom patch you guys up at least, alright?”

Stiles nodded, once more looking through everyone rather than at them, as Scott led him outside. It ended up that Danny and Ethan drove everyone to the Sheriff's home, seeing as how everyone had _ran_ to their house. Stiles rode with Scott and Kira pressed up on either side of him, Lana in his lap. Scott was pulling away some of Stiles's pain as Kira carressed his hair, whispering lullabies to a quickly-fading Lana. In the backseat was Derek and Boyd, the latter fast asleep while the prior was staring at the back of Stiles's head, gears visibly cranking in his head as he chewed over the younger man's sudden appearance. Ethan himself was rather confused as well, but he distracted himself with driving and holding Danny's hand as his boyfriend massaged the tense muscles in his shoulder.

They reached Stiles's childhood home in record time, where the Sheriff and Melissa greeted them all with open arms and a hefty first aid kit. Stiles sat on the couch as Melissa stitched him up, Lana still on his lap. It was surprising to everyone that Stiles rejected the painkillers, but what probably more surprising was Stiles's torso.

The young man was absolutely covered in tattoos and scars. Long, thin black lines mixed in with different runes and symbols, all clashing in a way that was almost poetic. Some of the runes looked Celtic, while others seemed to be Chinese and Indonesian. Most of them looked Slavis, though, what with their odd curves and abrupt angles. On Stiles's back was several zodiac signs, astroloical symbols and patterns dotting his spine and shoulderblades, going far down to his lower back. His arms were covered in black marks and lines, spanning out to his wrists before they cut off. White and red scars laid beneath the tattoos, and some of the inkings seemed to have fresh patches where a scar had been born and the mark fixed. Someone coughed, trying to hide the hitch in his breath, but Ethan heard it. And he knew why Derek gasped.

Hidden partially by his jeans, there on his hipbone, Stiles had a small triskellion etched into his skin.

Lana yawned and curled up into her father's chest, whimpering when Melissa pricked his skin with the needle. Stiles shushed her and turned her face away from where his step-mother was working, carressing her hair methodically.

“You have a _lot_ of explaining to do, young man,” Melissa chastized Stiles with little to no heat behind her words. When she was done, she looked to Lana. “Now, sweetheart, do you have any booboos?”

Lana shook her head. “My booboos go away fast.”

When Melissa cocked an eyebrow, Lana closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were a bright, glowing gold. The woman blinked, then smiled and nodded, patting Lana's head. “You're a wolf, too, hmm?”

Scott guffawed, and Ethan frowned pointedly, understandingly. “Why can't we smell her?”

Lana lifted her wrist, showing a small chain of yarn around her wrist. “Daddy made me a spoon!”

“It's _rune_ , _kochanie_ ,” Stiles corrected her with an amused smile. Lana rolled her eyes and poked her father's chest, going off on a tangent about some something or other that little children liked to talk about. Stiles groaned. “I thought you were sleepy, _księżniczka_.”

Lana shook her head, pouting. “I wanna talk to the other wolves! They smell funny, but that one smells really good!” A chubby finger pointed at Scott, who smirked and elbowed Derek, whispering, “She thinks I smell the best!”. Derek swatted the back of his head.

“Bed time, _kochanie_ , okay? Daddy's exhausted.”

The Sheriff gestured to the rest of the pack. “You all can stay here, if you'd like. It's already ridiculously late, and you look about ready to drop.”

Everyone decided to stay, and Stiles trudged upstairs with his daughter in his arms. It occurred to Ethan that all that night, Stiles had never let go of the little girl. “She calls him 'Daddy', but she doesn't look like him at all...”

“Besides the incessant blabber, right?” Derek snarked good-naturedly, and Ethan once again was launched into a psychological review of his pack. ' _He's more relaxed than he used to be, but still an asshole,'_ Ethan thought to himself as he eyed the second-in-command of his pack.

With all of the excitement of the night, it took hours for everyone to fall asleep. But once they did, they didn't wake up for hours.

 


	3. Don't Cry Over Spilt Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek wakes up to find Lana attempting to make breakfast for her father. And later on, Derek and Stiles have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a different take on Sterek in this story than there is normally, but I'm sure you'll understand after you read this chapter. The plot is fully revealed within the next chapter, and Stiles's going-away and the nogitsune PTSD is fully explained. So stay tuned!!  
> WARNING: Un-beta'd

Derek woke up to the smell of burnt toast.

Sitting up in his seat on the couch, Derek blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked around. Kira was sleeping on a recliner, Scott lying at her feet holding onto her ankle, practically drooling on her calves. Boyd was sleeping on a cot made from quilts near the windows. From the sound of heartbeats, Stiles was still upstairs asleep. Ethan had left for work and Danny for school, having shook Derek awake almost two hours before and warning him. The werewolf had just nodded, rolled over, and gone back to sleep.

Which left only one person awake.

A little hiss of “Darn it!” made Derek groan and stand, slowy creeping past his pack on the way to the kitchen. There, in an overgrown tee-shirt that hung off one shoulder- and smelt particularly like Stiles- was the little beige-haired girl from the night before. Standing on a kiddie stool, Lana was trying to retrieve two pieces of burnt toast from the toaster using a butter knife. Derek shook his head, going forward and taking the knife from the young girl. When she pouted and stomped her foot, the man rolled his eyes.

“You're gonna take your eye out, kid.”

“It's not _kid_ ,” she snarked, crossing her arms, “It's _Lana_.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, but easily shook off the girl's sassiness. She was a Stilinski, after all. “What are you trying to do, Lana?”

Lana suddenly looked much less sassy and much more shy. She toed the edge of the cabinet, mumbling, “I was makin' Daddy breakfast...”

It had been a while since he had dealt with kids, more than a decade, but Derek could remember when Cora was little and shy and would look away whenever she was caught doing something abnormal, even if it wasn't bad. Derek took a deep breath and remembered to be patient with the girl. After all she was only... “How old are you?”

Looking up at Derek, the little girl grinned and put up one hand. “Five!” she chirped.

Unable to hide his smile any longer, Derek broke out into a smirk. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! An' I was wantin' to make Daddy breakfast cuz I know he's stressed an' all cuz I'm a wolf and people are chasin' us and he looks really, _really_ sleepy- So I thought breakfast in bed would be awesome for him!”

Derek vaguely remembered Cora and Laura making breakfast in bed for his father- a human- one day when he fell ill. Cora had burnt everything and Laura had tried to salvage it with pepper, making their father choke and sneeze. Cora had cried for a half hour before Peter took her out for ice cream. “I'll help,” Derek said, to which Lana beamed and nodded her head, crying out, “Mm hm!”

It took about ten minutes to get the eggs and bacon- _turkey_ bacon, of course, as that was the only kind of bacon in the Stilinski house- ready to fry, seeing as how Lana had been adamant about cracking the eggs herself and had broken at least three on the floor before she handed them off to Derek, pouting. By then, Boyd was awake and setting the table, Kira in the bathroom freshening up. Scott was stirring, and the Sheriff had sauntered through the house to the kitchen, grinning when he saw Derek and Lana setting breakfast on the table.

Hefting Lana onto his hip, the Sheriff tickled her tummy and kissed her nose as she giggled and squealed. “Thank you so much, little lady.”

“You's welcome, Grandpa!”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, confused. The Sheriff looked to him, smirking. “I visited Stiles once or twice while he was in Europe. He had Lana by then, and she was actually big enough to remember her old gramps.” Derek nodded at the explanation and sat down, not thinking twice about setting the phone book on Lana's chair before she took a seat. The Sheriff, however, took note of the action and smirked, shaking his head.

It was when Stiles's heartbeat started going crazy upstairs that Derek stood, alarmed. Boyd frowned, looking up at the ceiling, and the Sheriff looked to the werewolves. “What-”

Then, there was a loud cry. _“NIE! Nie moje dziecko! Daj ją z powrotem! NIE!”_

“STILES!” came Scott's loud cry as he thundered up the stairs. Derek was right on his heels, Boyd holding Lana back when the little girl snarled and cried, tears running down her cheeks as she tried to get to her father. “Daddy! _Daddy_!”

By the time Derek reached Stiles's bedroom door, Scott had shaken his friend awake and was holding him tighting to his chest. “She's just downstairs, Stiles, really she's fine-”

“Where is my baby?” Stiles demanded, pulling away from Scott with wild eyes that startled Derek. A yelp from downstairs followed by scrambling led to a little blonde-haired werewolf charging past Derek and lunging onto the bed, latching her arms around her father's waist. “Daddy, _Daddy_ ,” she whimpered, rubbing her cheeks and chin all over his chest, scenting him as he wrapped shaky arms around her, checking her small body frantically for injuries.

“ _Kochanie, nic ci nie jest? Czy oni cię zranić_?” Stiles whispered to her softly, prying her arms from his waist in order to lift her up and get a good look at her face.

“I'm _fine_ , Daddy,” Lana replied, teary-eyed and sniffling. “They didn't hurt me, I _promise_.”

Before he could get offended that Stiles thought anyone in his pack would hurt Lana, Derek was pulled aside by Kira. The kitsune was biting her lip nervously, sharing a meaningful look with Scott. “Derek,” she whispered, “what do we know about what happened with the nogitsune?”

Derek cocked an eyebrow. “Well, you were there, Kira-”

“What do we know about what happened _directly after_ Stiles was exorcized?”

Huffing and crossing his arms, Derek replied shortly, “The Sheriff sent him to live with his mother's family in-”

“No, no, Derek, I mean like _right after_.”

Derek frowned, eyebrows furrowing together as he thought hard. “We- We took him to the hospital because he had tried to...” Glancing backwards at Lana, Derek grabbed Kira's arm and took her downstairs, Scott following only after Melissa and the Sheriff had arrived at the room.

The pack sat down at the kitchen table, everyone grim and quiet. “We took Stiles to the hospital right after,” Derek began again, looking at Scott. “Me and Scott, that is. He had... He had tried to kill himself to get rid of the nogitsune. He had... slit his wrists.” Kira stared wide-eyed at Scott and mouthed viciously, _“You never told me that!”_ Derek raised a placating hand to her. “Stiles begged us not to tell anyone, beyond the realm of his dad and Melissa, that is. We also let in Chris on what had happened, in case he saw any... _signs_ in Stiles that he was getting depressed...”

Scott spoke up when Derek trailed off. “A few days later, Mom took him back to the hospital because she saw signs of PTSD. And she was right. They diagnosed him with PTSD and temporary situational depression, gave him some perscriptions, and sent him home. Around that time was when my Mom and his dad were getting together, so he came and stayed with me. It wasn't until around the end of the summer that his Dad sent him to live with his mom's family. He was a lot better by then, depression-wise, but there was too much stuff around Beacon Hills that set off his PTSD...”

“So the Sheriff figured that removing him from the enviornment triggering the PTSD would help,” Kira finished off, to which Scott nodded.

“So what the Hell just happened?” Derek asked aloud, running fingers through his hair as he glowered at the table, trying to figure everything out.

Boyd paused for a moment, then spoke quietly, “He seemed really worried about Lana... Do you think he had a nightmare about- about those _things_ taking her?”

“He was checking her over for injuries,” Scott said affirmatively. “He did that with me and Isaac whenever we came home, back after the nogitsune. He would always tear up a bit when he saw we were hurt and we would have to talk him down from a panic attack.”

“PTSD doesn't go away just after a few years,” Kira said quietly. “My grandfather had it after World War II, and he lived with it for almost fifty years.”

A knock at the doorway showed a relieved-looking Melissa. “He's fine. It was just a nightmare, he said. I'm headed off to work, seeing as how I'm already late. And you, young man,” she pointed at Scott, “need to be off to work, too. Kira, do you have school today?”

Kira shook her head. “Only on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Monday every other week. _But_ ,” she said, standing, “I was supposed to meet Allison and Lydia to work out the Fae treaty.” Scott and Derek groaned simultaneously, to Boyd's and Kira's delight.

“Yeah, we have to do that, too,” Scott said tiredly as he looked to Derek. “Excited, Mr.Second-In-Command?”

“I dunno, Mr.Alpha, how excited are you?”

“ _Thrilled_ ,” Scott deadpanned as Kira shuffled him out the door. He kissed Melissa on the cheek and said, “We'll come over for dinner and to check on Stiles and Lana.”

Melissa nodded, closing the door after them, and looked to Boyd and Derek. “What do you two have to do today?”

Boyd spoke up, “I was waiting for the Sheriff to get ready so we could head down to the station together.”

“How many times have I told you to call me 'John', boy?” came the booming, playful voice of the Sheriff as he wrapped an arm around Melissa's waist and kissed her cheek. Boyd blushed and smiled a small smile, grabbing his hat and belt before nodding to Derek and Melissa, going out to the cruiser. The Sheriff glanced at Derek before whispering, “Take care of him today, okay? He really cares about you, y'know. Always has, always will. And Lana seems to have taken a liking to you, too.”

Derek humphed and turned away to hide his blush. The Sheriff simply chuckled and walked out the door after Boyd, leaving only Melissa. “I can take off today if you think you need help-” she began, only to be waved off. “It's fine. I'm sure Lydia and Allison will demand to see him as soon as Kira brings it up, so I'll have them to look forward to.”

Melissa gave him a smile and kissed his forehead, a bit of a habit for her. Derek didn't understand it, but he simply assumed that Melissa was so used to mothering Scott and Isaac that it had just spread to the rest of the pack, himself and Boyd especially, seeing as how they were always around and practically exuded the 'I'm-a-grumpy-orphan-with-a-terrible-past' vibe. “Alright, but if you need anything, you call me. I'm already late to work for today, so I don't even have to go in-”

“ _Go_ ,” Derek urged her, waving his hand and supporting his head with the other. “I'm sure they'll just sleep all day, anyways.” _'They both looked exhausted last night, and it takes a lot on a baby werewolf's body to heal...'_

Melissa resigned to Derek's urging and left, but not before kissing him once more on the forehead and making sure he had her number and the hospital's in his cell phone, as she did every time she left one of the pack members at her house. Derek locked the door behind her, then went up to check on Stiles and Lana.

Sure enough, they were fast asleep. Stiles's long, lithe legs were tangled up in the sheets, his body curled protectively around his little girl. Lana herself was balled up tightly, her face pressed into Stiles's shirt, and it made Derek's chest lurch knowing that Stiles's scent had been what had lulled the child to sleep. Laying a quilt over the two, Derek silently closed the door and went downstairs to watch TV. It wasn't but an hour before Lana was waking up again, creeping down the stairs almost silently. Derek couldn't help but smirk when he caught the little werewolf in the corner of his eye. She was behind the recliner, sniffing the air and peeking around the chair at Derek, stiffling her breathing as she tried to figure out how to get past him into the kitchen without being seen.

_'She's a lot like Laura,'_ Derek thought as he looked directly at the TV, giving Lana time to scramble into the kitchen. ' _Playful and sweet, outgoing and talkative. She was shy at first, but I'm assuming that was just the 'my-life-is-in-danger-and-I'm-surrounded-by-strangers'...'_

There came a low crash from the kitchen and Derek groaned, rubbing at his eyes. _'She seems to enjoy getting herself into trouble like Laura, too...'_ Hefting himself up from the couch, Derek went to look for the little girl. He found her with the fridge open, a carton of milk split on the floor. Her hands covered her mouth as she looked up at the man with wide eyes. “Uh-oh!”

“Uh-oh is right, kid.”

“It's _Lana_!” she whined petulantly, stomping her foot and flashing her yellow-golden eyes at Derek. He cocked an eyebrow and growled low in his throat, flashing his own blue eyes at her. Lana turned back to human, but didn't seem scared. In fact, she seemed thoughtful. “Why is your eyes blue? My eyes are yellow, and Mr. Scott's eyes is red. Why is that?”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, frowning. “Your dad never told you about that?”

Lana shook her head. “Daddy told me 'bout tankers and stuff, but not 'bout eyes.”

“You mean 'anchors'?”

“Yeah! _That_!” she exclaimed, grinning and jumping up and down. “Daddy told me about the anchors and how they can help me ta stay who-man.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “ _Human_.”

“That's what I said, _who-man_!”

The older werewolf simply chuckled once more and went about cleaning up the milk, having Lana 'help' him by putting down some towels on the spill. Between the little girl's giggling and reciting lines from poetry books that “Daddy had readed” to her, Derek didn't hear Stiles coming down the steps until he cleared his throat. Derek's head popped up from where he was wiping the milk off the edge of the fridge. Lana launched herself at the young man with a cry of, “Daddy!” and rubbed her cheek against his knee. Stiles laughed and picked her up, nuzzling her cheek with his nose and faux biting the tip of her nose. “Daddy!” she giggled, pushing at his chest. “Stoppit! No bitesies!”

Derek couldn't help but chuckle, and Stiles shot him a look. “Does Mr. Derek needs bitesies on his nose?”

“Right. Go ahead and try,” he said lowly, baring his blunt teeth at Stiles, who laughed in response.

“Don't dare a Stilinski; we're too bold for that sh- shtick.”

Stiles sat Lana down on his lap at the table, pulling forward a plate of bacon and eggs that had been set out for him. He tore the saran wrap off the top and offered Lana a bite of eggs, which she declined with a turned-up nose and instead asked for chocolate milk. “Oh, no, young lady,” Stiles said, tappnig her nose with his finger, “no chocolate milk for you! Don't think I've forgotten the summer of oh-forteen!”

“I was _two_ , Daddy!”

_Oh-forteen? Really, Stiles? Wait... Twenty-forteen was only about a year after Stiles left. If Lana was two, that means her mother would have had to be pregnant with her before Stiles left... A girl in Beacon Hills? No, we would've smelled Stiles on someone. But, then, what...?_

“Got some questions, Sourwolf?”

Derek felt a lurch in his chest when Stiles called him that, and he looked up at the younger man with a shocked expression. Stiles hadn't called him that in years. Stiles hadn't come _home_ in years. Derek was suddenly filled with an ungodly rage that spread from his spine to his claws. “Why did you come back?”

Stiles paused, looking down at Lana as she made a mountain with his eggs. “We needed help-”

“Why did you _really_ come back, Stiles?”

Stiles looked up, and Derek clenched his teeth when he saw the tears in the human's eyes. “You don't believe that I just missed you guys? That I thought that nobody could protect me better than my pack? That I thought _you_ would be able to protect me?”

Lana looked up at her father's tensening voice and rapidly increasing heartbeat. “Daddy,” she said quietly, placing a hand on his chest, directly over his heart. “Calm, Daddy, calm.”

Stiles closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He smiled weakly at his daughter, stroking her hair and kissing her temple. “Go watch TV, baby, okay? Daddy needs to talk to Mr. Derek.”

Lana cast a glare at Derek, so sudden that the werewolf tensed and flinched backwards, to Lana's happiness. She nodded to her father and then scuttled on into the living room. The sounds of Spongebob filled the air and Stiles sighed, looking to Derek. He looked to the seat across from him, then at Derek, who took a seat.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a long time until Derek broke it by clearing his throat. “So... why you came back...”

Stiles sighed, licking his lips and Derek tensed. _'Oh dear God_ please _don't do that... The full moon is close and I have less control as a beta, not to mention those goddamn lips...'_

“The truth is, I _did_ miss you guys. Ever since I left, I've been unable to think about a lot more but how much I missed you guys- you and Scott and Isaac and Lydia and- everyone, really, even Ethan and Aiden... And then, Lana came into my life, and there were people after her. I knew that adopting her would bring on trouble, more trouble now tha I really remember signing on for, but she's my baby girl, Derek. She's my little princess. I would kill for her- I would _die_ for her. And then I picked her up from school a few days ago and we were suddenly being chased. I- I didn't know where else to go. We were already back in America by then, and it would be impossible to get a flight back to Europe and get away from those guys at the same time, and I missed you all _so much_ , and I just- I just-”

Derek noticed how Stiles's breath was quickening, and he grabbed the younger man's hand, carressing it with his thumb. “Hey, hey, Stiles, _breathe_.”

Stiles did, and his heartbeat calmed down exponentially. He rubbed at his eyes, chortling mirthlessly. “Sorry... It's been a while since I've felt so... safe. I mean, for once I don't have to worry about Lana being safe, or about those _things_ getting us, and I can just... Relax. And, apparently, my subconscious mind has taken that fact and decided that now we're safe from bodily harm that I'm safe enough to flip out and have night terrors and panic attacks and stupid shit and- dammit...” Tears welled in Stiles's eyes, and he pulled away from Derek. “I- I can't-” his voice cracked, “I can't talk about this stuff right now, Derek, okay? I just- I just need some time, okay? Give me until the next pack meeting at least. What's that, like, a week from now?” Derek nodded, surprised that Stiles still remembered their schedule after five years. “Alright, then give me until then. _Please_.”

The brokenness of Stiles's voice was what did it for Derek. Stiles wasn't Stiles anymore. The nogitsune, Poland, PTSD, becoming a father- all of it had done him in, had changed him into something, something Derek didn't know anymore. But beneath that, Derk knew, he just _knew_ that Stiles- _their_ Stiles- was still there. He just needed time for his psyche to sort everything out.

“Alright,” he replied quietly. Stiles nodded, not turning to look at Derek, as he joined Lana in the living room. Derek smirked a bit and then called out, “Oh, by the way, Lydia and Allison are probably gonna stop by with Kira later.”

Stiles hissed something and Lana gasped loudly, replying with a loud, “No bad words, Daddy!”

Derek laughed silently to himself, shaking his head. Out of Stiles's speech, one thing had stuck in Derek's head. _“I knew that adopting her would bring trouble...” 'So Lana's adopted...'_ he thought, leaning back in his chair. If Lana was adopted, that meant that there was no problematic woman in the picture. Derek smirked, then paused, frowning. _'Wait... does Stiles even_ like _guys anymore? Dammit... I need to text Scott...'_

 


	4. Finally We Get Some Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Pack Meeting comes around, Stiles and Lana make their grand entrance. Lydia is hormonal. Isaac is inquisitive. And Derek is just done with everyone's shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people have asked me to translate the Polish from the past chapter and this one. I'll try to get everything, but if I forget something or don't explain something fully, please just ask me to explain more! (And I am so, so, SO sorry if you're actually Polish or speak Polish because I tried to make it authentic but there's only so much I can figure out on Google Translate...)
> 
> kochanie, słoneczko- honey, sweetheart  
> księżniczka- princess  
> bezpieczeństwo- escape, escaping, getting away  
> chować- duck!, get down!  
> wąpierz- dhampir, vampire  
> zmiennokształtny- shapeshifter  
> "NIE! Nie moje dziecko! Daj ją z powrotem! NIE!"- "No! Not my baby! Give her back! No!"  
> "Kochanie, nic ci nie jest? Czy oni cię zranić?"- "Honey, are you okay? Did they hurt you?"  
> (this one is Latin) sanguine arietis- goat blood
> 
> Wooh! Also, the OC's mentioned are not going to be a huge part of the story, so you can calm down if you hate OC's, lol. But I am gonna give ya'll a character plot if you're interested in Stiles's extended family!! (It will become more elaborate as Stiles talks more about them, if he does at all...)
> 
> Magda- witch, grandmother of Stiles and mother of Jedrzej  
> Jedrzej- zmiennokształtny (shapeshifter), uncle of Stiles and father of Luka, leader of the 'coven'  
> Luka- emissary/spark, cousin of Stiles  
> Olessia, Orya- succumbi, twin sisters from Russia  
> Zan- Fae (unspecified)  
> Cole- bitten werewolf (rank unidentified)  
> Dmitri- bitten werewolf (rank unidentified)  
> Vlad- wąpierz/dhampir/vampire
> 
> Thanks much!!

Lydia was livid.

Sure, Lydia was often livid, like that one time that Isaac and Scott dragged Aiden home drunk as a skunk in the middle of the night in the hopes that she was asleep- which she wasn't, of course. Lydia was livid when Erica had 'forgotten' to tell the Pack about her new boyfriend- who was a vampire, mind you. Lydia was livid when Ethan and Aiden brought a muddy cougar kitten into their house to bathe and feed it, only to be mauled by the mother when they tried to 'send it back home'. But, Lydia was even _more_ livid the night of the pack meeting when Stiles walked in with a little girl attached to his hip.

“ _Stanislav Genim Stilinski_ , I _swear_ to _God Almighty_ I'm going to kick your _skinny ass_ for not replying to my last message!”

For about a month and a half, Lydia had managed to track down Stiles's current e-mail and had been notifying him of the pack and their goings-on. Stiles often replied in short messages, too afraid that if he spent long on the internet that he and Lana could be tracked. But, since he had written a short message to Lydia a few days before saying 'Cming hme', he had neglected to respond to any of her frantic replies. It was a  _wonder_ that Kira had left her mouth shut to Allison and Lydia the other day- not that Kira was a traitor, or anything, it was only that she was the second-worst liar that Stiles had ever met, Scott being the first and Isaac the third.

“ _STILES_!”

Lana jumped, her face shifting with tiny fangs and bright eyes as she turned her face into her father's jacket, whimpering when Lydia came to stop in front of Stiles. Stiles, eyes wide, looked down at the woman's round stomach and then back up at her red face, which clashed terribly with her orange curls. “He-ey, Lyds-”

“Don't you 'he-ey, Lyds' _me_ , Stanislav Stilinski- I swear to God, you had me so worried I almost went after you with a shotgun full of wolfsbane!”

Aiden mouthed over his wife's shoulder,  _“She did”_ , earning an elbow to the ribs from Ethan. Lydia pursed her lips, putting one hand on her hip and the other under her pregnant belly. Stiles offered a meek grin, the king that crooked to one side of his face and showed off his ridiculous dimples that he knew Lydia loved. “Sorry?” he squeaked, only to earn a swat to the back of the head. Lana jumped and hissed at Lydia, only to draw the banshee's attention.

Her face softened and she cooed at the little girl, raising a hand to her lips. “Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't see you there. You're Lana, yeah?” Lana reluctantly nodded, to which Lydia giggled, and Stiles thanked the Lord for moodswings, something he thought he'd never do. “Well, Lana, I'm sorry if I scared you. I was just worried about your pig-headed Daddy over here. He's given me gray hairs since high-school!”

“I can assure you that your hair looks lovely, Lyds-”

“Shut it, you.”

Allison came in between the two, giving Stiles a side-hug as to avoid his still-wolfed-out daughter. “We missed you, Stiles.”

Erica, recently arrived for the weekend pack get-together with Isaac and Aiden, embraced Stiles fully, earning a nip at her ear from Lana. “Ouch! Sharp teeth you've got there, little pup. And she's right, Batman, we've missed you. Some more than others...” Stiles missed the glance she shot at a certain brooding beta.

“Let's sit down and catch up before the meeting, alright?” Scott said aloud, gesturing for everyone to settle down. Before everyone had arrived to the new-and-improved Hale Mansion- which Stiles had to admit, was rather beautiful with its white-washed window panes and sills, the red silk carpet a touch of gothic flair- someone had dragged couches and chairs out in a large circle. Lydia sat in a cushy loveseat with Aiden on her left, Allison on her right, the huntress cooing to her friend's belly. To Allison's left was Danny and Ethan, sitting on kitchenette chairs. To Aiden's right was Scott and Kira, both sitting on kitchenette chairs, as well. Derek sat on the arm of a recliner, Peter- to Stiles' surprise- sitting in the chair itself. Erica and Isaac took up another loveseat, with Boyd sitting on the arm of it- nearly in Erica's lap. Jackson, who Stiles only now was told had come back from England about two years before, had claimed the last recliner for himself, leaving Stiles to sit on the last kitchenette chair, Lana on his lap hiding beneath his hoodie.

“So...” Scott began, leaning forward on his elbows, and Stiles was surprised to see just how much his friend had filled out over the past five years. Sure enough, everyone looked much older- nearly all the men were sporting some kind of facial hair, save Isaac and Boyd, and the women had all filed out appropriately, especially the rounded-out Lydia.

“How far along are you?” Stiles asked before Scott could begin.

Lydia smiled at Stiles and rubbed her stomach with one hand, holding onto Aiden's forearm with the other. “About six months. We've been married almost a year, now.”

“And we've been married three,” Scott chirped happily, caressing Kira's hair. The woman leaned into his hand and _purred_ for God's sake, making Stiles chuckle under his breath. 

“Wow. I've missed a lot, huh?”

“Which is why we're catching up,” Derek input, casting Stiles and understanding glance. _'Damn. If I had to say which of the pack members changed the most, it would be Derek. He's a great big softie, now.'_

“I came back from England a few years ago,” Jackson began. “I've only just been re-initiated within the pack. My fiancee- Mia- she's a Fae that still lives in Bristol. She's finishing school there this semester and will be joining me here afterwards.”

Stiles nodded and looked out to the pack, waiting for someone else to clue him in on their current lives. It was Isaac who spoke up next. “Me, Aiden, and Erica have been rooming up at Berkley,” he said, to which Stiles nodded. “I'm finishing up my last year- I'm majoring in Psychology and I've got an opening at the high school, actually. Aiden's working on becoming a physical trainer-” Stiles coughed to hide a laugh and Lydia smirked “-and Erica's becoming a nurse.”

Erica butted in. “Melissa got me a summer job at the hospital, and she's been offering up some notes she's taken over the past couple years on _supernatural_ _first_ _aid_ , or so she calls it.”

Allison was next. “I work in my dad's weapons shop he opened up about four years ago- after _extensive_ treaty work-” Scott nodded with furrowed brows “-and I also teach archery on the weekends. There's a little cafe down from our shop, which is all-human-owned, mind you- and I've been seeing a guy there. It's nothing special, though, just a little flirting and a few dates.” At Allison's blush, though, Stiles could tell the guy was more than 'nothing special'.

“I've got a job working on the biogenetic molecular structure of-”

“ _English_ , Lydia,” Aiden interrupted his wife with a smirk. Lydia rolled her eyes and began again.

“Basically I'm a self-employed supernatural scientist. And I'm paid royalties by colleges and fantasy book-writers to consult,” she said with a wink at Peter, who scoffed and looked at Stiles.

“I'm a writer, now.”

And that was that.

Ethan and Danny were next, Ethan explaining that he was deputy at the station under Stiles's father, and Danny was the new coach at Beacon Hills High after their old coach retired. Scott was a vet now, of course, and Kira was teaching both History and Latin at the high school. When Stiles looked to Derek, it was Peter that spoke up.

“Derek's now a professional dominitrix.”

Stiles squeaked, blushing and staring wide-eyed at Peter, who started laughing maliciously. Derek rolled his eyes and looked to Stiles, giving him a chin-up. “I'm a mechanic.”

“ _And_ an aspiring artist!” Lydia chimed in happily, earning a menacing Hale-glare which she shrugged off with all the grace of a Martin. “Derek's got a few paintings in town, and he's illustrated for Peter a few times.”

“He designed the logo for my dad's shop,” Allison said with a smile.

“So, Stiles,” Peter drawled, gazing curiously at the small child still trapped beneath Stiles's clothes, only her tiny pink shoes seen beneath the fabric of her father's flannel shirt, “what exactly have you been up to?”

_'And so it begins,'_ Stiles thought with a sigh, dragging Lana out from under his shirt.

“ _Daddy_ -” she whined petulantly.

“Svetlana Stilinski-”

The little girl whimpered at hearing her full name and turned around on her father's lap after a bit of prompting, showing her blushing face to the rest of the pack. “This is my daughter, Svetlana, but she goes by Lana. Tell them how old you are,  _księżniczka_ .”

“F-Five,” the little girl mumbled, earning coos from the ladies and Scott as she held out a small, chubby hand to show all of her little fingers. Stiles beamed proudly at the child even as she scuddled backwards on his lap, wrapping her hand around his sleeve nervously. He stroked her hair, sending calming waves towards the young werewolf as he addressed the pack.

“I adopted her about a year after I went to live with my mom's family.”

“Only a year?” Peter asked with a cocked eyebrow. “You would've only been eighteen. Not judging, but, did they _really_ let a foreign eighteen-year-old adopt a child?”

Stiles shrugged. “It wasn't exactly... through the system... I need to start at the beginning...

“When I left for Poland, I had no clue what to expect. I thought I'd be pulling plows with cattle and shoveling muck for the next year or so. But when I met them, all of that went out the window. As it turns out, Deaton was right when he called me a 'spark'. My mom was magic, apparently, as are all of my family on her side.” Everyone gasped and began to whisper, and Stiles raised a hand placatingly. “Anyways, her magic only carried on a little bit to me. I can't do big spells and stuff like that without the help of amulets or runes- the tattoos you guys saw. My mom's family, my cousin _Luka_ and my grandmother _Magda_ especially, helped me learn to hone it- the spark. I'm a full-fledged emissary without a cause, now.”

“You said the nogitsune had something to do with it...” Ethan urged hesitantly. Stiles sighed, shaking his head.

“Oh, yeah. _That_.”

There was a pause upon which the crickets outside became deafening, the waxing moon outside casting a forboding light upon Stiles's amber eyes as he gazed through the pack once more. Derek tensed seeing Stiles's eyes so glazed over, ghostly and chilling. Scott gently reached out a tapped Stiles's palm, making the young man jump slightly and look over at his friend. “Ah. The nogitsune. Right...

“Well, when the nogitsune... _left_ , it left behind a piece of itself. A... A carbon footprint, if you would. A piece of its magic, an instrumental piece of it that powered its mysticism and supernatural-” Stiles waved his hand in the air and made sound effects, which calmed the rest of the pack as they laughed at the Stiles-ness of the action. “That magic footprint powered my spark into being- well, being a _flame_. That's what made it possible for me to hone my magic, or so Magda said. Luka helped me etch in the runes, and I found out how to make amulets-” he held up Lana's wrist to show the straw braid around it “-like this one. It keeps other supernaturals from smelling her wolvliness.

“Anyways, I was traveling with Luka and Jedrzej- Luka's dad and Magda's son- around the Russo part of Poland when we came upon a settlement that had been decimated. We soon deciphered that it had been hunters upon a wolf pack... Hunters is Europe are even worse than some of the ones here...” Stiles shuddered, and Derek found himself wondering what on earth Stiles had seen that had put that kind of fear into him after the nogitsune. “...We were wandering around, looking for survivors, and we found Lana.” The little girl beamed up at her father, and he kissed her forehead, earning several more 'coo's from the pack. “I don't know what it was- maybe it's how much she reminds me of my mom- I dunno- but I just knew that I had to protect her. Jedrzej drew up some fake documents and Luka helped me fill them out. The rest of their coven- their word for 'pack', really- put protection charms on us. But a few days later...”

A dark shadow grew in Stiles's eye, and Lana whimpered, pulling her father's hand close to her chest and nuzzling it with her nose and chin. “A few days later, those...  _things_ attacked. They... They killed Marek and Lolek, Jedrzej's twin brothers, and they left Magda in a coma. Their attack was so similar to the style we had assumed was hunter's on Lana's pack, but it... It reminded me so much of the Oni, too.” Stiles shook his head, and the darkness left his eyes, although Lana was still sticking close to him. “I'm still in contact with Luka, and he says they're looking into the... things.

“About two years later, Lana and I moved back to America. She already knew some English, so teaching her was easy enough, but we still had to figure out how to make it with no cash or prior documents. Jedrzej helped a _ton_ there, sending us _złoty_ that I changed into dollars and bought a motorcycle and hotel room with. For the next two years or so, we jumped from state to state. About a month and a half ago, Lydia e-mailed me with some summarized news about you guys, and now, we're here!” Stiles stuck out his hands and grinned, waiting for an applause that obviously did not come.

“So your family... They're all witches?” Allison asked curiously.

Stiles shook his head. “Only a few are witches, although all of them are magic. Magda and Ewa- Jedrzej's wife- are witches. Then there's Olessia and Orya, two sisters from Russia who're some type of harpy or succumbi or something. Then there's me and Luka, the 'sparks' or emissaries, and then there's my other cousins- or second cousins or whatever, I just call them cousins- Dmitri, Kole, Vlad, and Zan. Zan is a Fae. Dmirti and Cole are bitten wolves, and Vlad is a _wąpierz_ \- ah, or, in English, a dhampir. Oh! Yeah, and Jedrzej is a _zmiennokształtny_ , a shapeshifter.”

Overwhelmed by the foreign names and numerous magical beings, the pack reeled for a moment, absorbing the information gradually.

Scott spoke first. “You said you were still in contact with your cousin- Luke?”

“Luka,” Stiles corrected, “and yeah, he e-mails me via a secure line he's created. It's pretty sweet, actually- I thought you'd be interested, Danny.”

“And has he got anything on these creatures yet?” Derek asked, leaning forward with a scowl. Stiles almost laughed. _Oh, Jesus. He's grown up some, but the scowl is still the same!_ “Not much, really. We're supposed to video-chat on the new moon, though. We figured out that those things don't attack on the new moon. They never appear, never attack, never even leave a trace.”

“Maybe it's their weakness,” Lydia offered, looking down at the floor as she chewed over the thought and rubbed her chin. “Like how wolves are weak on the new moon. Perhaps their at their strongest during the full moon, too.”

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe.”

A low  _grrrrooowwwwl_ made everyone look down at Lana, who blushed and held her tummy. “I hungry, Daddy.” Stiles laughed and Scott stood, grinning. “I suppose that means it's time to break out the frozen pizzas, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Lana cheered happily, shooting a little fist into the air.

Scott and Ethan disappeared into the kitchen while Peter ran off to do who-knows-what, Danny, Jackson, and Boyd going onto the back porch for a smoke. Lydia, Allison, and Kira all gathered on the floor, sitting on pillows, as Derek appeared with a box of toys. Stiles cocked an eyebrow, and Derek blushed. “Everyone's been gathering stuff for the baby, but some of them are a bit... older? More Lana's age, I mean.” Lana hopped happily to the box, sniffing it and poking it until Derek took off the lid, spilling the toys over. Squealing gleefully, her shyness forgotten, the little girl sat down with a wooden doll and began grinding her fangs on it. The women 'coo'ed and Stiles rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Isaac approached him from behind, nudging his side and nodding towards the front door.

Stiles followed Isaac out, fully knowing what he was getting himself into.

Isaac leaned against the wooden pillar of the front porch, watching Stiles as the other man toed a stone on the gravel driveway. It was silent for a few long moments. The air whistled peacefully through the trees, the crickets and cicadas stirring awake for their orchestrated nightly dance. If Stiles closed his eyes and concentrated hard, he could smell the pine cones and dew drops on the trees, could hear the babbling brook behind the mansion that led to a lake where the pack had spent many long summers. Taking in a deep breath, Stiles smirked at Isaac. “It's good to be home.”

Isaac smirked back. “It's good to have you home.”

Silence again.

“So, now that Lana's occupied, how have you been?... Really, Stiles?”

Shivering at a sudden gust of wintery wind, Stiles wrapped his arms tightly around himself, shrugging. “It's been... rough. The PTSD isn't as bad when Lana's around. She's like my little personal nightlight-slash-medication, I guess. I finally got off the pills a few months ago, seeing as how it's hard to keep a perscription up when you're always moving around. ADHD isn't as bad, but it mixes with the flashbacks sometimes and I just... fade off sometimes...”

Isaac nodded understandingly, patting Stiles's shoulder and taking note of the dark shadows under his eyes. Isaac wondered how long it had been since the younger man had a full night's sleep. Stiles meanwhile was shaking away his dark thoughts, looking to his old friend. “But how have you been? No more nightmares?”

Isaac beamed. “Not for a few years, now. Melissa was right. Therapy helped, a  _lot_ .” He toed the same stone Stiles had abandoned. “You should think about trying it. I had sessions with Deaton, some with Marin-” It took Stiles a minute to figure out that  _Marin_ was  _Miss Morrell_ “-and it... it just  _helped_ . And now, I'm helping other kids who're going through similar stuff.” He smiled sideways at Stiles. “But hey, what've you been doing besides all that mumbo-jumbo? Any cop work or FBI shenanigans?”

Stiles choked on a laugh. “ _Shenanigans_ ? Dude, you've been spending  _way_ too much time with my dad.” Isaac rolled his eyes. “But naw, not much. I attended a summer camp for kids aspiring to be in law enforcement around my first summer in Poland, but... since I got Lana... I haven't had much time for actual job stuff. I've been doing odd ends jobs to get by, some tech stuff, some handiwork. Most of it's been working on people's cars and toilets, though.” Isaac winced empathetically.

“Dude. That sucks.”

“Yeah...”

Pause.

“How's your love life?”

Stiles scoffed. “How's yours?”

Isaac shrugged into his leather jacket.  _'Leather jacket? Really? Is Derek still keeping up that shtick? Does everyone in the Hale Pack own a leather jacket? Is it in the terms and agreements of becoming a werewolf or something?'_ “Allison and I didn't last long. It was just teenaged lust, y'know?” Stiles nodded. His infatuation with Lydia, however long, never spanned into anything serious, especially after senior year. He had a fling with that Malia Tate girl for a while, but it was just that- a fling. And he hadn't seen anyone after that, except for a young dhampir guy in Belarus for a while, but when he, Luka, and Jedrzej had broken camp, he had left that behind. “I saw a girl at Berkley for a while. Then Allison again. And then a guy in town- Tyler Oaken?” Stiles shook his head. “Yeah, didn't figure. He was a year above us and never played lacrosse, so...” Isaac shrugged. “I'll know when the right person turns up.” A cheshire cat grin suddenly leaked over onto the werewolf's face. “But what's this about those  _looks_ Derek's been sending you?”

Stiles blinked harshly. “ _What_ ? Naw, you're crazy. Derek hasn't been sending me  _looks_ -”

“Dude. He's been eyeing you like a bloody rib-eye.”

Stiles winced and stuck out his tongue. “Ew. I thought you guys didn't go for raw meat!”

“Full moon, Stiles. Full moon.”

“Blech... Anyways, those _looks_ or whatever must just be him being Mr. Broody-Mc-Protectivekins or whatever. No way Derek would _look_ at me, y'know?”

Isaac shook his head, sneering. “Whatever. Hey, Scott's asking about us. Let's go in.”

Stiles followed Isaac in, only to have a sudden ray of pain shoot down his spine. “AUGH-  _Shit_ -”

“STILES!”

It took several moments for Stiles to blink away the black spots around his vision, but when he did, he had the worried faces of Isaac, Scott, and Derek in his very-much personal space. “Whoa, guys, I'm fine-”

“You almost _collapsed_ , idiot,” Derek growled, eyebrows furrowed into a tight line. Stiles shook his head, rubbing his eyes nonchalantly, although all the wolves around him could sense his heartbeat quickening.

“Yeah, that happens when-”

“You're _used_ to it?!”

“Shut up and let him talk!” Scott exclaimed, glaring at Derek who huffed back.

Stiles began again. “That happens when- shit- when the things are getting close. Shit, shit, shit- Lana-”

“She's with Erica and Lydia inside,” Derek said.

“Get them in the cellar- this thing's still got a cellar, right?” At Derek's nod, Scott sent Isaac off to get the three females downstairs. “We need to prep for them.”

“I thought you said you didn't know how to beat them,” Scott cried indignantly. Stiles shook his head, feeling a migraine coming on.

“No, I can't beat them, but I know how to told them off for a while.” Stiles simpered slyly. “You learn a few things when you're in the great outback of Russia for three months with nothing but a snarky cousin and a few runes.”

“Great,” Derek said, staring off past Stiles's shoulder, “Because I see them coming.”

“ _Shit_.”

 


	5. Oh, That's Cool- They Glow, Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shadow figures attack and Stiles unveils just how much he's learned over the years. Later on, Derek deals with his unrequited feelings for Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE PLEASE tell me what you'd like to see more of Sterek-wise and other-shippings-wise, also plot-wise. I'm almost out of magic writing juice! D:  
> This chapter contains Sterek, Derek and Lana fluffs, Mama Mc-linski awesomeness, and a BAMF DILF. If you can't handle that... read with a brown paper bag. :)  
> ((I'M SO SORRY IT KEEPS SLANTING EVERYTHING AND I CAN'T FIX IT PLEASE DON'T HATE ME I TRIED))

 

“Get into the cellar!”

“ _What_?” Erica snarked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at Isaac, although she was already standing when she felt his tenseness.

“Get into the cellar! They're coming,” he repeated, eyes wide and frantic as he helped Lydia to stand. Lana whimpered and withdrew to the wall, hugging herself tightly. Erica looked at the little girl, then to Isaac who was being smacked in the arm by a certain banshee. “You two go on,” the werewolf addressed them. “I'm gonna get her down there, too.”

Isaac nodded and led Lydia to the cellar while Erica rounded back towards Lana. Crouching down to the little girl's height, Erica tried to seem as least threatening as possible- which was difficult when she was wearing spiked stilletos and a leather bustiere. “Lana?”

Lana whimpered and pulled her knees to her chest, sitting down on her rump with a _plop_. When she peered up at Erica, the woman smiled softly at the bright beta eyes that were flashing her way. “Hey, sugar. It's alright.” Everyone was running around and shouting by now, and Stiles was throwing bottles and amulets around, ordering Derek and Scott what to do. The noise was murder on Erica's ears, so she could only imagine what it was like for a baby werewolf who couldn't control her shift, much less her hearing. “Your daddy's trying to protect you right now, so I need you to come with me, okay?” When Erica reached out to the girl, Lana growled and slashed at her wrist with tiny claws.

Erica sighed, leaning back on her heels and running a hand through her tangled locks. “Okaaay...” Suddenly a thought came to her. “Hey, Lana? Do you know who Batman is?”

Lana cast Erica a confused stare, but nodded. Erica grinned. “Then you know who Catwoman is, too, hmm?” Lana nodded again. “Well, see, when your daddy and I were younger, we were really good friends. I called him Batman, and he called me Catwoman... I know you're scared, but can you be brave for your daddy? I think you would make a really good Robin...”

Lana's eyes went back to their original silver color, and she made a meek noise of agreement, taking Erica's outstretched hand. Erica led the little girl down to the cellar. It was more of a sitting room than a cellar, with carpet and rocking chairs and even a few windows that were covered up by bushes. Her keen eyes could see out, though, and Erica peered into the darkness for any sign of the monsters. Lydia, from her position in a rocking chair, made grabby arms at Lana and crooned to her as the little girl sat rigidly in her lap. It only took a few strokes of her hair to calm the baby werewolf, however, and she was soon purring and rubbing her chin on Lydia's shoulder.

Erica flinched as a loud noise came from upstairs, sounding like a mix of a bomb and thunder. Lana cried out fearfully, clutching to Lydia's hand. With haunted eyes, she stared at Erica and whispered, “Th-They're here...”

 

~ <> ~

 

Stiles was busy running around ordering Scott and Derek on how to prep the Hale house, but he saw Erica coax his daughter into the cellar and felt a fragment of relief leave his chipped shoulders. He grabbed a bottle of _sanguine arietis_ \- a much larger one, practically a milk gallon of it- and tossed it to Scott, who caught it skillfully. “Line every enterance to the house with that.” Scott nodded and darted off, leaving the rest of the pack with Stiles. “Boyd,” Stiles handed said werewolf a jar of what looked to be broken crystals, “this is a ritual protection shield. Just pour the crystals around the door to the cellar and any windows and say ' _signo_ '. Jackson, this is _menstrualis sanguis ex capella_.”

Jackson screwed up his nose. “Do I want to know?”

“No, you don't. Make a big circle of it on all the doors.” Jackson and Boyd left to do their duties, and the twins took a step towards Stiles. “Can you two go outside and see how close they are? With, like, your werewolf stuffs?” Ethan snorted, and Aiden rolled his eyes. “Oh! But take these-” Stiles handed the two small straw and crystal bracelets “-they're Lana's size so you should just hold them, but they're basic invisibility amulets. The things won't be able to smell or see you, but they'll be able to hear you if you're not too quiet, so be quiet .”

Derek, impressed by Stiles's handiness, stood back as the young emissary ordered around his pack. If they weren't in the current situation, Derek might have been sightly aroused. To see Stiles treating his pack like this, not badly but stern and commanding, it was a turn-on. And then Stiles faced Derek. “I have a big job for you.” Derek blinked, mentally sending away his dirty thoughts as he neared Stiles. “What?”

“This is gonna sound weird,” Stiles said as he began to strip, and Derek felt his mouth go dry, “but I trust you to do it.” Stiles threw his shirt away, revealing lithe but sculpted abs and pecs covered in tattoos and scars. He sat down on a chair, gesturing for Derek to sit next to him. “I wasn't prepared at Ethan's and Danny's house, but I'm prepared now.” Stiles pulled out a ritual blade, and Derek felt his blood run cold.

The blade was short, but wicked with a teethed edge that held swirls and blood-red gemstones in its core. The opposite side was thin and sharp, looking about the width of a razor. Derek could feel the magic radiate from the blade, and he could smell Stiles's blood permeating its iron. “This is a _caedes_ , a magic bloodshedder. Every emissary has one. When we do really powerful spells that require our blood, we use this. But I'm not going to be able to do this myself. I'm going to be concentrating too hard on the spell, seeing as how it's very, _very, very very very_ hard and nearly impossible to do in confined spaces- but I'll do it right, don't worry about your house-” at that Derek cocked an eyebrow “-I just need you to cut my skin enough for blood to flow. Preferably on my back because that's where my magic is centered.”

“ _What_?”

Stiles shook his head. “Emissaries have an area where their magic is centered- for Deaton it's his wrists, for me it's my back. Anyways, normally I can reach around and do it but this spell is _ridonculous_ and I need your help- can you do that?”

Derek looked into Stiles's eyes, noting the protective and fierce flame that was churning behind amber lenses. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt his pack. He had done enough of that in years prior. But the way Stiles was looking at him, as if all was lost if Derek wouldn't help him, made the beta nod. Stiles gave a relieved sigh and smirked at him. “Great. Now we just have to-”

“They're almost here!” Ethan exclaimed, panting heavily as he and Aiden launched themselves into the room, slamming the door. Stiles froze up, and Derek put a hand on his shoulder.

“Stiles... We're here to help you. We're your pack.”

Pack seemed to register, because the young man came back to life, turning his head to look at Derek with an emotion that the werewolf couldn't decipher.

“...Okay. Derek, when I say... Everyone else, you might wanna stand behind me...”

And that's how they went- the entire pack standing behind Stiles and Derek, the latter holding a magic knife that seemed to be burning his palm the tighter he clung to it, and the prior shivering nervously, his fingers drumming across his thigh methodically. The pack was tense, watching Stiles and the doors and windows with bated breath. Scott was edging closer to Stiles and Kira with every passing moment. Jackson and Aiden were in the hallway leading to the cellar, but they kept sticking their heads into the main room to check and see what was going on. Danny and Ethan were holding hands, Ethan positioning himself in front of Danny as the man tried to control his nervous shift. Allison was holding her bow tightly, sending Stiles uneasy glances.

And then it happened.

The windows shattered inwards with a long, high-pitched shriek that sounded much too like a banshee for comfort. Swirling black shadows lunged forward, engulfing the room, choking the wolves with its sharp smell of rotting eggs and blood. Several roars rang throughout the room, and Stiles shouted for Derek. Derek, his hand tightly wound around Stiles's thin hip, raised the knife between Stiles's shoulder blades-

Only to have it knocked out of his hand. Swearing and roaring at the hooded figure that separated him from Stiles, Derek unleashed his wolf. He threw punch after punch at the hooded figures surrounding him, only for them to dodge. Finally, Derek threw a faux punch at one of the side and whirled around at the last moment, doing a horizontal flip in the air and kicking his clawed feet at the figure to his right. The shadow didn't even flinch as Derek's claws sunk into it's chest. It simply grabbed the werewolf by the ankle and threw him across the room into the wall, shrieking a terrible shriek that made Derek's blood curdle.

Unable to see anything past the fog and the blood dripping into his eyes, Derek roared for his pack. To his left somewhere, Kira answered with her own hissing growl. To his right, he heard Scott. And across the room was Peter, who Derek only just realized hadn't bolted when he had the chance. Brownie points for you, Uncle Creep. Pulling himself up on the wall, Derek shouted, neck tensing, “STILES!”

An answering call echoed across the room, seemingly miles and miles away. It was so soft Derek almost didn't hear it. _“Derek!...”_

A growl deep in his throat, Derek rammed head-first into the shadows, cursing when he impacted what certainly felt like Danny and sent the two sprawling out over the floor. Despite being face-to-face with the other wolf, Derek couldn't see Danny's morphed features past the horrid swirling shadows. A cry of pain followed by a loud “KIRA!” let Derek know that his pack was failing in their defensive manuvers.

_“Derek!...”_

Stiles sounded closer, now, but still much too far for comfort. Standing with an ache in his step, Derek romped through the shadows until he bumped into another pack mate- Allison, or so he smelt. The human was holding her own against two shadow figures, but Derek could sense the weariness in her shivering muscles. The smell of her blood and tears made Derek's own blood boil, and he dragged her away from the figures, roaring as loud as he could in their faces. They shrieked back, one throwing its hand at Derek's chest. The werewolf let out a pained shout as five long, pencil-thin claws dug through his chest. He gripped the monster's wrist, twisting it until it should have snapped- but it simply rotated back to its proper position, the figure throwing its other hand out to attack Derek. Allison did something, though, which kept off the attack and made the enemy shriek in pain and launch itself at her. Allison was suddenly gone, though, off towards where Derek heard Isaac's ragged breathing coming from.

We're all going to die if this keeps up, Derek thought morbidly, continuing on towards where he assumed Stiles was. As he walked, his muscles felt tired. The smoke around him seemed to thicken, and when he looked at his feet, Derek saw a black, lumpy sludge slowing him down. He snarled and tried to pick one foot up rather unsuccessfully, roaring in anger when his ankle was strained painfully. “STILES!”

_“Lychinus diruo!”_

The smog was suddenly thinned- not cleared, but thinned to where it seemed there was simply a smokescreen over the pack. Derek's eyes flashed to where several of his friends were lying on the floor, some of them up and fighting but losing badly. And there, only ten steps away from him, sat Stiles on the floor, blood dripping from his torn lip. Eyes wide, the human nearly cried out in relief when Derek crouched in front of him. “Derek, I need you to-”

Derek looked down at Stiles's hands, where the younger man was holding his caedus. Derek took it and, without a second thought, dragged it down Stiles's spine. Stiles gasped, but Derek could also hear a few words drag from his lips. “ _Praemunio et proiectus hice familia_ .”

It was terrifying what happened next, and Derek could see what Stiles meant by 'carbon-footprint'.

Stiles's eyes opened as wide as they possibly could and changed to a milky white swirl of color, much too reminiscent of the nogitsune's eyes for Derek's delight. His mouth opened wide and he coughed, straining for air as the tattoos over his torso burned a brilliant incandescent white. His hands gripped Derek's wrists tightly as his back bowed, head throwing itself backwards as he _screamed_ . Derek winced as he held onto Stiles's hands tightly, pushing the burning the other man's tattoos did to his skin to the back of his mind. Stiles's veins bulged from his neck and face, and Derek was frightened for a moment they would burst. Then, the light from Stiles's tattoos flung the shapes outwards, attacking the shadows and making the monsters scream in pain.

And then, it was over.

Derek caught Stiles as the young man collapsed into his arms, chest heaving and mouth wide open as he clutched Derek's thigh, shivering manically. Derek gathered Stiles into his chest, inspecting him for injury besides his lip and back. Besides a few bruises, he seemed alright. He was exhausted, sweating, and shivering, but alright. His heartbeat was going crazy, but he was alright. He was alright. Derek heaved a sigh, resting his chin on Stiles's head as the young man curled into his chest, fingers spasming around Derek's shirt.

The pack was splayed around the room in small groups of injured and uninjured, although the prior was a much higher number. Allison was sitting with Isaac and Peter, nursing a terribly sprained wrist to her stomach as she helped Peter stop the bleeding from his torso. Isaac was unconscious, but seemed to be uninjured beyond a lump on his temple. Danny and Ethan were huddled against the couch, Ethan coaxing Danny quietly into turning back to his human form. The new werewolf, shaken up from the fight, was vibrating from adrenaline and snapping his jaws at his mate, blood running from his cut-up neck and pecs. Ethan seemed to be one of the lucky uninjured, as did Scott. Scott had Kira in his lap, holding tightly to her rapidly bleeding wrists. It seemed like one of the shadow figures had gotten a hold of her with the same claws it had attacked Derek with. Narrow, deep gashes in Kira's wrists and forearms bled freely as she leaned against Scott, whimpering as he drained her pain. Boyd sat next to the two, positioning his broken leg so it would heal properly.

Stiles groaned, and Derek looked down at him with as much concern as the brooding beta could muster. “...Der'k?” he moaned, eyes closing tightly at the seemingly blinding lights in the room, contrasted with the hazy shadows from earlier. “Wh'r's.... Wher'.... L-L'na...?”

Derek's head snapped up, and his eyes met Scott's, whom he knew then had been listening to Stiles. “AIDEN! JACKSON!” Scott roared into the hallway, to receive no response. Danny and Ethan bolted up, a now-conscious Isaac right behind them. Derek, leaving Stiles with Allison and Peter, followed the three down to the cellar.

Danny rammed the door open, earning a concerned look from Ethan before the werewolves all ran into the room to find-

Aiden and Jackson stared at them with wide eyes, confusion clear on their features. Aiden was holding Lydia tightly in his arms, and Jackson was shielding Erica over in a corner of the room. Erica peered around Jackson's shoulder and sighed when she saw her pack mates. “Is everyone alright?”

“They'll live,” Ethan replied with a nod. Everyone in the cellar breathed a sigh of relief until Danny said, “Where's Lana?”

Erica gently pushed Jackson away from her, looking down at the bundle of blankets in her arms. “There were so many shadows and I couldn't- I couldn't see anything , but Lana jumped into my arms and- she's alright. Terrified, but alright.”

Derek sighed audibly, and Ethan cast him an amused glance, which the older man chose to ignore. “Is she-”

“D-Daddy?” Lana whimpered, pulling the blanket down just enough so that her little yellow eyes could peer out of it. Derek approached, crouching next to her. Lana whimpered again as Derek cupped her face with his large, calloused hand. Lana nustled it with her cheek and nose, her tiny fangs peering past quivering lips as she looked at Derek questioningly.

“He's alright. Everyone's alright, Lana.”

Lana began to sob.

 

~ <> ~

 

A few hours later, the pack was licking their wounds back at the Stilinski residence. Lana had latched herself to her father's torso and wouldn't let go for a moment, not even when Lydia was wrapping up Stiles's back. The Sheriff had a double shift that night, but Melissa had come home to a thoroughly bloody and beaten pack snuggling in a large pile in the living room. She laughed at them before getting down to business, helping set broken bones and suture larger wounds that were healing too slowly. When she rounded to Stiles and Lana, Melissa began to coo.

Lana was asleep, tear-stains tracking down pudgy cheeks. Despite this, she still had a death grip on Stiles's arm, her baby claws digging into his skin- though not deep enough to draw blood, as Stiles had already taught her after several incidents- and her nose burrowed against the side of his neck. “I would take a picture but I don't want to wake her,” Melissa said as she kissed Stiles's forehead. “You look beat. Need anything?”

“Water?” Stiles croaked, and Melissa went to get just that.

Peter was the first to ask, of course. “Just what the hell was that spell, Stiles?”

Stiles licked his lips, looking down at his daughter. “I... It's a really strong spell that pulls all of my magic and leaves me useless for a few hours. It scares them off, though. It's basically all of my magic banning together and creating a luminescent shield that destroys bad spirits.”

“So they're spirits?” Erica asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Stiles scoffed, sending her a condoling smile. “I wish it was that easy. The spell destroys bad spirits, it only pushes these guys away. My strongest spell and all it does is scare them...”

Melissa appeared with water for everyone, and Stiles silently thanked her for her speediness. I guess it comes with being a nurse, huh? “I'll try to answer your questions,” he told the pack, “But I honestly don't know much more than what I've already told you.”

“You don't know _any_ way at all to kill them?” Jackson reaffirmed.

“No... Nothing.”

“It would help if we know what they are,” Allison input, the gears in her brain already working, and Stiles praised the Lord for her level-headedness and training. “I can talk to my dad, look through the beastiary, talk to Deaton. I'll see what's up with those things. And maybe your cousin will have some light to shed when he calls.”

Stiles nodded, mostly listening. Part of him was focused on Derek, curiously inspecting the way the werewolf was gazing at Lana's sleeping form with some sort of soft emotion, his eyes warm and his lips curled up in a miniscule smile. “Can you help me put her to bed?” he asked quietly, to which Derek nodded eagerly. The pack sniggered, but Stiles simply rolled his eyes and carried on. _The Queen would be proud. Hmph!_

Derek opened the bedroom door for Stiles, and he whispered his thanks as he pried Lana off of him and set her on the bed to go and get her pajamas. Lana began to writhe and whimper, so Derek sat next to her and let her grab onto his hand with her little claws, caressing her hair with his free hand. In her sleep, the baby werewolf crooned and rolled over so her face was pressed into Derek's knee. She sniffed him and made an adorable huffing mewl-slash-growl noise, nibbling on his jeans.

“Is that typical? She does that sometimes, and I don't know if it's a werewolf thing of a baby thing...”

Derek looked up at Stiles, blushing hard when he saw the young man was only in boxer briefs, pulling pajama pants up his limber hips. They hung in a way that left little to the imagination and made Derek thank every diety he knew of that Stiles wasn't a wolf so he couldn't smell Derek's current state. “It's a baby-werewolf thing,” Derek said. “Baby werewolves like to sharpen their teeth and just chew on stuff. It's a habit that she'll drop when she gets older.”

Stiles giggled. “Like a puppy, then.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like a puppy, Stiles.”

Stiles sat on Lana's opposite side, rubbing her belly as he undressed her and put her in a velvety Disney Princess nightgown. Lana cooed again and started nibbling on Derek's fingers, making the older werewolf chuckle. Stiles reached forward to pry Lana off Derek, but she began to whine and cry in her sleep when she no longer felt the older wolf's warmth. Stiles was about to panic, so Derek simply took the little girl from his arms and cradeled her tightly. She calmed down instantly, and Stiles began to look sheepish.

“Ah- sorry about...”

“Don't be,” Derek said with a smile. He settled against the headboard, looking upon Lana's face with affection. “She's comforted by my scent. I've been told it's musk and honey.” Stiles laughed at that and sat next to Derek. “It'll do her good to be around more wolves... It'll do me good, too, honestly. Seeing her... It reminds me of my family...”

Stiles got very quiet. Derek hardly ever talked about his family, so when he did, people listened. “Cora wasn't my only little sibling, you know? There were a ton of kids in our family... It went Declan, Laura, me, Cora, then Isaiah and Cheyney, the twins, and then Peter's son, Errin.”

“Peter had a kid ?” Stiles asked incredulously.

Derek nodded. “And a mate... We all lost a lot in that fire...”

Stiles worried his lower lip as he looked at Derek. The way the beta held his daughter, looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, it was touching. “I'm excited for you guys to be a big part of her life. You, especially. I think she'll be able to tone down your Sourwolfy ways a bit.” Derek cocked an eyebrow at Stiles, and the emissary laughed, punching his shoulder lightly. “Not to be a bother, but... Could you spend the night up here? I can't stand the idea of her having any nightmares tonight, and it looks like she's really comfty...”

Derek had to restrain himself from yelling _“YES”_ at the top of his lungs. “Sure. If you're alright with it...”

Stiles shrugged, nodding to the dresser. “Pants are in there if you want some.”

Derek shook his head and used one hand to rip off the shreds of his shirt. “I don't think they'll fit- besides, I don't want to put her down.”

Stiles beamed.

It took a few minutes for Stiles to fall asleep, which was a very short time considering his ADHD. Derek thought nothing of it when Stiles began to slump into the covers. But when his head lulled over onto Derek's shoulder, the werewolf nearly jumped out of his skin. The pin-prickling, burning sensation that spread through his body when Stiles touched his skin, from his crown to the tips of his toes, made his wolf yip and nearly purr in pleasure. Derek closed his eyes, taking in Stiles's scent. It was a mix of a dewy water smell and herbs- rosemary, sage, peppermint, and more- that consoled his raw nerves. Curious, now, Derek moved his nose over to Lana's hair and sniffed. Stiles had removed her amulet when he was dressing her, so Derek could smell that tangy, dark scent that couldn't be described that said she was a wolf. Alongside it was a childish, innocent scent of a sweet, cotton-candy-esque flair with little spots of her original scent that she would grow into as an adult, a blackberry-and-waterfalls scent that made Derek hum in happiness.

Closing his eyes, Derek took in the warmth of the pup in his arms and the man at his side, falling into a deep and blissful slumber.

 

~ <> ~

 

Sometime during the middle of the night, Stiles began to whimper and thrash around in the bed. Derek's eyes shot open, flashing electric blue as he looked around for a threat. When he saw none, he sighed and began to gently massage Stiles's head with one hand, running his thick fingers through the downy-like strands of hair. Stiles almost instantly began to relax, leaning into the touch and smiling. Derek grinned and fell back asleep.


	6. Mini Badass, Just Like Her Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Derek decide that Lana needs some training if she's going to be able to integrate smoothly into the pack. And Stiles can't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for how late this is! Gah! The problem was that I had to re-write the entire chapter because I was dissatisfied with it.  
> WARNINGS: Un-beta'd, violence, LANGUAGE, possible panic attack triggers  
> *****IMPORTANT******PLEASE READ******* This is NOT the way to deal with a panic attack, unless you KNOW the person well and have HELPED THEM BEFORE. People react differently to different stimuli during panic attacks. They are NOT thinking straight, because they are focusing on NOT BEING ABLE TO BREATHE. I myself have panic attacks, and I deal with them through physical attachments and words of encouragement, as is written here. But please, DO NOT HUG/SMOTHER A PERSON HAVING A PANIC ATTACK unless you have assisted the before and KNOW FOR A FACT that they need the hug. Thank you!  
> (I don't own Teen Wolf)

Stiles awoke to the sun filtering in through the blinds, birds chirping, and his daughter sitting on his chest. Blinking harshly, the emissary rubbed at his eyes and smacked his lips, cracking his neck and knuckles. “Good morning,” he drawled, making the girl giggle.

“Good mornin', Daddy!”

“How are you today, _kochanie_?”

“Good, Daddy! How's you?”

Stiles pulled himself up, wrapping an arm around Lana so as she wouldn't fall off the side of the bed. “I'm alright.”  _No nightmares for once... That's a first..._ Derek was gone, so Stiles assumed he had left some time during the night. After all, the werewolf wasn't really the cuddly-feely type. With a loud yawn, Stiles hefted Lana onto his hip and made his way down to the kitchen.

To his surprise, the entire pack was still present. Danny and Ethan were being grossly adorable over in the corner of the room, feeding each other what looked to be pancakes. Meanwhile, Erica and Boyd were doing the same, the only difference being the fact that Erica was sitting in Boyd's lap on a kitchenette chair. Kira and Allison were chatting quietly with Lydia, who had her feet propped up and one hand resting on her swollen belly, Scott and Jackson arguing about something a few feet over. Isaac was stirring hashbrowns and eggs on the stove, and Aiden was pouring fresh orange juice into separate cups. Derek greeted Stiles at the doorway, taking Lana from him without a word. The little werewolf squealed happily, leaving a slobbery kiss on Derek's cheek. “Der! Der! Good mornin'! How is you?”

“It's how _are_ you, _kochanie_ ,” Stiles reprimanded lightly as he stole a piece of bacon from Lydia's plate, earning a swat to the hand. Derek ignored the younger man in favor of smiling gently at the little girl in his arms.

“I'm fine, Lana. How are you?”

“Good!” she exclaimed happily. “Daddy an' I are hungry!”

“Well, good thing we made pancakes,” Aiden spoke up, offering a plate of piping hot flapjacks to Stiles, another plate already on the table, cut up into small pieces for Lana. It made Stiles smile. The pack was taking well to Lana. _Almost_ too _well... I'm gonna have werewolves trying to steal my baby right out from under my nose if I'm not careful!... I already have a few supernaturals trying to steal her..._ Stiles shook away the dark thought, looking to where Scott and Jackson had abandoned their argument in exchange for talking to Lana as the little girl shoved syrupy pieces of pancake into her mouth. A low chuckle made Stiles turn, and he grinned when he saw Derek smirking at Lana.

_He said last night that he had two younger siblings besides Cora. Were they werewolves, too? And he said Peter had a kid... Peter... Creepy Uncle Peter may have a soft-spot for my baby girl. Hah! Well, she is pretty much magic in the getting-people-to-coo-over-me department. Maybe she'll even help Peter be less creepy!_

“So, we're training today, right?” came Isaac's voice from a corner of the room. Simultaneous groans rang out, but a snarl from Scott made everyone straighten up. The Alpha looked to his second-in-command, an eyebrow cocked. Derek cleared his throat.

“We'll be working on some basics today.” The continued “for Lana's sake” hung in the air. “Some partial shift work, strength control, and the basics of senses.”

The pack intoned their understanding, and Lydia huffed. “Well, then, I think that Allison and I should take the day to do some research, then. Hmm?” Allison groaned in response but nodded in agreement.

“Lydia's right. The sooner we figure out what those things are, the sooner Stiles and Lana will be safe.”

Stiles shivered, not wanting to think about such things, and cast his eyes upon his tan-locked angel. She was eating her pancakes savagely, unaware of the serious 'adult-talk' around her. Scott was running his fingers through her hair, and Stiles chuckled.  _I guess I'll have to live with the pack scent-marking Lana and I for a while, now._ As if hearing his thoughts, Derek came up behind Stiles and rubbed his nose into the younger man's shoulder, thrusting a plate of hashbrowns and eggs towards his chest.

“Eat up. You're gonna be researching with Allison and Lydia, so you'll need all your mental strength.” Stiles missed the knowing glances from Isaac and Erica, taking the plate from Derek and going to sit next to his daughter.

 

~ <> ~

 

After eating, the pack found themselves back at the Hale mansion. Stiles apologized profusely for the broken windows and door, offering to pay for them and going so far as to reach for his wallet. Derek simply held up his hand and shook his head, replying, “It's what pack does.” And that was that.

Lana was vibrating with excitement, chasing squirrels as they tried to gather nuts for the upcoming snows. A few birds flew overhead, going further south than the chilly Beacon Hills, earning a happy yip from the little werewolf as she jumped after them. It made the pack laugh as they watched her. Eventually, though, Scott went forward and grabbed Lana up in his arms, blowing raspberries on her belly and tossing her onto his back as he waited for the pack to make a circle around him.

“Alright,” came Derek's sonorous voice as he came to stand next to Scott. Despite being the Alpha of the Hale-McCall pack, Scott was very lacking when it came to pushing the pack to better themselves in training. He tried to be nice, which was not what the wolves needed. They needed a coach, not a mother. Hence Derek leading training. “We'll start with some sensory training to warm up.”

“Circle time!” Erica shouted, sitting cross-legged on the ground. The others followed suit, even the ever-irked brooder. Lana plopped down on Scott's lap, tearing at the grass with tiny werewolf claws.

Derek began again. “Alright. We'll be practicing distance scents amongst the... older wolves. Lana, you're going to practice with Erica and Scott.” It was a wise choice. Besides being comfortable with Scott as he was an Alpha, Lana always seemed more relaxed around the man. Perhaps it was a Stilinski-McCall thing. And she had clung to Erica like a starfish all morning, calling her 'Auntie Catwoman' and insisting that Erica call her 'Robin'.

Lana hopped from Scott's lap to Erica's as the other wolves made a separate circle a few yards away. Scott chuckled at Lana's eagerness as she sniffed the air and ground. “Okay, Lana-loo, we're gonna work on smelling today. Mm'kay?”

“Mm'kay!”

“So, Robin,” Erica began, stroking the little girl's hair. “You know what all your senses are, right?”

Lana nodded. “I gots sight an' hearin' an' taste an'... uh... touch?” Scott nodded encouragingly. “An... An' scent!”

“Right!” Scott exclaimed, holding up a hand to high-five the girl. “Good job, Lana! We're gonna work on scent right now. So, close your eyes- and no peeking!” The child did so, although she seemed to have a trial with the 'no-peeking' rule. “So, Lana, I want you to take a deep breath.” She did so. “And now, tell me what Erica smells like.”

Erica held her hand up to Lana's nose, allowing the younger wolf to inhale deeply her scent. Nose scrunched up and lips twisted tightly in confusion, the little girl protested. “She don't smell like stuffs I can ex-pain!”

“So try to match her scent to things you _can_ explain,” Scott encouraged.

Lana huffed, but didn't argue. Instead, she sniffed Erica's hand again, grabbing onto her fingers tightly as she turned over the older female's limb. “She smells like... Like peppa'mint... Peppa'mint an'- an' flowers!”

“Yeah?” Scott asked with a smile, to which Lana nodded profusely, sniffing Erica's hand once more.

“An'... An' she smells like _warm_.”

“Like warm?” the woman asked, amused.

Lana nodded again, affirming her words. “Ah-huh! Warm and home!” Eyes popping open, the little girl looked to Scott. “You smell like warm and home, too! An' so does Unc'a Isaac an' Der an' Daddy!”

“It's because we're pack,” Scott told her happily. “Your Daddy's in our pack, so it makes sense that he would smell like us, and us like him. It's good that you smell warm and home, Lana-loo. It means that you're our pack, now, too. Do you want to be our pack?”

Lana squealed out a “yes!” and hugged Erica tightly around the neck before doing the same for Scott. Their exercises continued, Lana commenting that Scott smelled like “cin-mon an' nuts an' trees”. Then, Scott had her try to decipher different scents of pack members. It was difficult, seeing as how Lana didn't know many of the scents, but she was able to tell out Derek and Isaac from the others. She also made a loud proclomation that Isaac smelt of peanut butter and flowers, while Derek smelled like grass and brown. It took Erica and Scott a minute to stop laughing and explain that 'brown' was actually called 'musk' when talking about sense of smell.

Their training session ended abruptly when Lana stood, ran over to Derek, and burrowed her nose in the crook of his neck. Derek jumped slightly, but caught the girl around her waist and pulled her into his lap. “Lana? What-”

“You smell like grass an' musk an' warm an' home an' Daddy!”

The pack laughed loudly, and Derek flushed a bright red color. He couldn't help but reply by nuzzling the little girl's hair, though, telling her that she smelled like strawberries and crayons before sending her back to Scott and Erica. Scott had her practice a bit more before they moved on to her hearing. Lana had a hard time hearing heartbeats individually, but she was more than apt at deciphering squirrels and birds that rustled about, as well as finding a grasshopper meters away and catching it. Erica snatched it away before she could eat it, though.

A few minutes later, Allison called them all in for lunch. Stiles had prepared a hearty meal in apology for the house being broken: a spicy chili full of meat and spices, hold the beans because everyone knew Scott couldn't handle them, and sweet cornbread on the side. He had even made dessert, dozens of mugs of white hot chocolate. No body knew where he had procured the supplies from, but they weren't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Lana sat on Stiles's lap as she gnawed on a piece of cornbread, chattering on about how good Derek and Scott smelt, but how Daddy smelt the best because “water an' minties an' pack-smells” beat out any other scents by a mile.

When lunch was over, Scott handed Lana over to Derek for some shift training. She was much better at it than anyone would have expected. As it turned out, Stiles had told her the basics of anchors, to which she was trying with all of her childish might to hone. She had the secret part down, though, and wouldn't give up what her anchor was even for dear old “Unc'a Scott”. After finding out she knew about anchors, Derek and Scott were curious to see what else she knew about werewolves. They were again impressed. Lana explained, as well as a five-year-old could, about the beta-alpha-omega relationships. She knew that alphas had red eyes and betas and omegas could have yellow or blue eyes. When Derek had nervously asked her what the blue eyes meant to her, she replied with “Daddy says dat bwoo eyes jus' mean the person's got sad stuff in them. He says dat they sorries for bad things, but that it's not  _bad_ to have bwoo eyes. Daddy says that Der and Unc'a Aiden and Unc'a Ethan have bwoo eyes, too!”

Something that Derek and Scott began to notice was that Lana called nearly everyone in the pack 'aunt' or 'uncle'. Nearly everyone except for Derek, that is. The beta was shocked and upset, although he hid it well. Scott could see it, though, below the gruff demeanor and tough skin. Derek was hurt that Stiles wouldn't tell his daughter that Derek was close like that, that he was family. Scott insisted that it was nothing, that Lana would come around eventually. After all, she clung to Derek like no other. Derek simply pushed the thoughts aside and continued on with Lana's training.

“Daddy! Daddy! Lookie! I'm gonna fight Unc'a Isaac!”

Stiles looked up from his spot on the front porch, teaching Allison and Kira about some of the runes he had tattooed over his body and their meanings. Lana was standing opposite Isaac, the latter in a crouched position as he circled the littler werewolf. Both of them were shifted into their beta forms, eyebrows missing and sharp teeth poking out from behind their lips. Stiles grew nervous, even though the rational side of him- the very, very minute side of him- knew that Isaac would never even think about actually harming Lana, or any child for that matter.

Isaac lunged at Lana, and the little girl squealed and doged. Stiles noticed that Isaac's lunge was rather slow, though, for a werewolf at least. Isaac turned and growled at Lana, not his battle growl, but one much different from it that screamed 'play'. Isaac charged once more, but Lana didn't dodge. Instead, the little girl threw out her claws and caught his shirt, tossing him backwards over her head. Isaac yelped, and Stiles laughed loudly. He had noticed the extra push Isaac gave to flip himself over Lana, but the child didn't seem to have noticed. The rest of the pack made noises of awe, looking to eachother with comically wide eyes. Isaac rolled around on the ground theatrically, making noises of pain that drew giggles from Lana.

Jackson and Danny both pawed at the ground humorously, pouncing towards Lana. Again, she reached out and flipped the two, one in either hand. And again, the werewolves flipped themselves over her head purposefully, landing next to Isaac on their backs and groaning much too loudly. Next came Aiden and Ethan, and then Scott and Boyd. Erica was too busy laughing to play along, though. Derek, the last one left, snarled at Lana as he circled her menacingly. Stiles watched, humored that the beta would play along.

Derek really had changed. He had gotten looser, much more casual and spirited. He was still the brooding, menacing figure in the shadows that the pack expected him to be, but Stiles saw the gleam in his eyes that wasn't there five years before. Derek had  _changed_ . He was a new man, new and improved. He was more mature and less impulsive, less angry at the world. He showed  _affection_ , for God's sake! Even then, as he circled Lana and clawed at her jovially, Stiles could see the relaxation in the older man's muscles.

Lana took the offensive this time, sprinting forward and grabbing Derek's shirt. However, when she tried to flip him, Derek simply jumped and landed on his feet, spinning back around to face her. Lana huffed, going forward to try and flip him again. And again, he landed on his feet. Lana gave a loud cry as she ran at Derek, slashing outward with small claws and tearing the man's shirt, but not drawing blood. Derek bared his fangs and dropped to all fours, giving a loud roar. Lana dropped down to her knees and hands, roaring right back. Her roar, of course, was juvenile and sounded more like a pitiful yelp, but it meant the same.

Stiles laughed when Derek made a comical move, digging his head under Lana's stomach and flipping her up onto his back. Lana screeched in pleasure, grabbing onto Derek's shoulders and digging in her little claws. Derek winced, but made no movement to stop her. He simply stood, grabbed her ankle, and pulled her around to dangle in front of his face. Lana was red-faced from being upside down and laughing so hard, her little cheeks glowing with happiness. Derek himself was grinning, and he gathered Lana tightly into his arms, nuzzling her face and kissing her cheeks. Lana cooed, nuzzling back and rubbing her chin on his shoulder.

Stiles felt a pang in his chest when he saw the action. Lana had been missing out on this nearly her whole life. Missing out on pack, missing out on the affection and rough housing that only a pack of werewolves could give her. And it hurt. Stiles tried all her could, but it still hurt to know that he hadn't been father-of-the-year, hadn't been giving his baby girl- his princess- what she really needed.

A hand on his knee brought Stiles out of his thoughts, and he looked over to where Kira was gazing at him with a melancholy smile. “You did the best you could, Stiles, and she's turned out a great girl. She's got pack now, so don't worry about it. You're a great daddy.”

Stiles huffed, rather reminiscent of Lana's own noise. “Are kitsunes mind-readers or something and you guys just didn't tell me?”

Kira laughed, shaking her head. “Nope. You're just too easy to read.”

Stiles grumbled something about 'stupid supernaturals being stupid', making Kira laugh once more, before he stood and reached out to his daughter. Lana propelled herself into his arms, hugging his neck tightly. “Did you see, Daddy? You see? You see?”

“I saw!” Stiles commended her. “You did amazing, _księżniczka_! Daddy's so proud of you!”

“Daddy, Daddy, can we have ice-cream after dinner?”

Stiles sighed, pretending to ponder. “ _Weeeell_ , you _did_ work really hard today... And you ate all your vegetables at lunch...”

“Yeah, yeah?!”

“Alright.”

Lana cheered and fist-pumped, and Stiles rolled his eyes when he saw Scott and Isaac do the same. “C'mon, Lana. Let's go wash up.”

Dinner and ice-cream were had in abundance, and Lana received a bubble bath upstairs before Stiles tucked her in one of the several guest bedrooms. He had remembered to bring her rabbit, fortunately, seeing as how the little girl couldn't sleep without it. She hugged it to her chest and blabbered in Polish for a while, until Stiles kissed her forehead and tucked her in. Then, she proclaimed loudly, “Bedtime story, Daddy! Bedtime story!”

Stiles shook his head. “Sorry, _kochanie_ , but Daddy doesn't have the Bedtime Book with him.”

Lana pouted, hugging her bunny to her chest tightly. Tears glistened in her eyes. “But- But we haven't got ta read for _ever_ ,” she exclaimed sadly. Stiles gave her an empathic smile, stroking her hair.

“I know, _słoneczko_ , but-”

“Eh-hem.”

The sound of a man clearing his throat made Stiles jump, and he turned to see Derek standing in the doorway meekly, shuffling his feet a tad as he peered up from beneath heavy brows. “Ah, I've got a few story books around here that survived the fire... If you're interested, I mean-”

“That would be awesome,” Stiles interrupted with a grin. Derek, flushing a brilliant pink, nodded and went to retrieve the book. He appeared not but a minute later, creeping to sit next to Stiles on the edge of the bed. Stiles opened the book and inhaled the scent of the crackling, old pages. “Wow. This must be ages old!”

Derek shrugged. “My great-grandfather copied down the old stories we told. My mother painted the images for them when she found it again.”

“Your mother painted?”

The older man shrugged once more. Before he could speak, however, Lana reached out with little arms, bunny still firmly grasped in her hand, and crawled onto his lap. “ _Czas historia_!” she exclaimed happily, to which Stiles mouthed to Derek, “story time”. Peering through the pages, Stiles chose a story and happily set about reading it.

In Polish.

Derek was surprised at first, however it didn't take long for him to simply close his eyes, humming contently as listened to the melodious lilt of foreign words dancing off Stiles's tongue. “ _Dawno temu, żyła młoda dziewczyna o imieniu Ruby. Miała ciemne, czarne włosy i jasne niebieskie oczy i zawsze nosił czerwony płaszcz na ramiona. Z tego powodu ludzie zaczęli nazywać ją Czerwony Kapturek..._ ”

It wasn't long before Lana fell into a deep slumber, lulled to a trance by her father's rehashing of Little Red Riding Hood. Stiles flipped through the pages long after Lana had fallen asleep, taking note of the intricate paintings upon every other page. They had splashes of color and thin black lines that told stories all in themselves. “Wow... Derek... Your mom was an amazing artist...” He grew quiet. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Derek shifted. “I like talking about my family every once in a while. People just assume I don't.”

Stiles nodded. “I understand. Trust me, I do... Do you want to talk about them now?”

Derek glanced over at Stiles, then back to Lana. He gently carressed the little girl's cheek, smiling meekly at her. “Not now. Maybe later, but... not now.” _Let's just enjoy this, here, now._ “Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Goodnight, Derek.”

…

…

…

Stiles didn't sleep well that night. He tossed and turned and had terrible nightmares, waking up several times in a cold sweat and clutching his daughter to him tightly. The things didn't attack that night, which was more nerve wracking than anything else bothering him at the present time. Stiles finally got up to get himself a mug of coffee around four in the morning, seeing as how he certainly wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon. With a yawn and a pop from his back, the young man made his way out to the back yard.

It was a large expanse complete with a garden, tire swing, and deck. An umbrella sat perched upon the center of the deck, chairs and a small table below it. The garden, a feature that Isaac was insistant upon when rebuilding the house, had been Stiles's favorite place to hide in his senior year, especially after the nogitsune. He remembered distinctly about a week after he had finally been freed from the hospital, freed from the demon, and had not wanted to go home to face his father. So, he found his way meandering towards the Hale house, parking and going around rather than through. Derek had found him two hours later, asleep in a bed of clover. The tire swing was new. Stiles didn't remember it being there before he left, but he assumed that Jackson and Scott had something to do with its appearance.

The moon shined down brightly, only a crescent. It reminded Stiles that Luka would be trying to contact him in just a few short days. They had to figure out what these things were, why they wanted his daughter, why they wanted to _kill_ him and his baby and- His baby. Hid baby, his baby, his baby- _Oh, God. No, no, no, no, no- not my_ kochanie _, they can't have her. Not my baby. No, no, no!_ A vision met his eyes, one of a naked infant with blood spattered over her body, her tiny hands reaching out into the air and toothless gums stretched into a wide scream. Picking her up, cradeling her to his chest, crooning to her for months until she could finally sleep a whole night by herself. Teaching her to talk, teaching her to walk, teaching her to use the damn toilet- It all made Stiles's breath catch in his throat. He nearly dropped his mug as he went to set it on the table, one hand going to claw at his collarbone as a panic attack made its way down his throat, to the cold recesses of his gut, sitting there, building like a white lie, cold and harsh and _he couldn't breathe-_

“Stiles!”

Strong hands wrapped around his elbows, twisting him around and pulling him into a strong, firm chest. One hand threaded itself through his hair, the other rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back. The hand was warm and calloused against Stiles's bare skin, and he focused on that fact as he took in aborted attempts at breathing. Eyes closed tightly, the emissary wrapped his knuckles into the man's chest, burying his face into the hard shoulder as tears trailed down his cheeks involuntarily. Soft “ssh”s and “it's okay”s were whispered in his ear, the hand rubbing circles on his back moving up and down from shoulder blade to spine to hips. “It's okay. Ssh, Stiles. It's okay. It's okay...”

It took a good five minutes before Stiles was able to breathe correctly again, his face pale and cheeks speckled. Shakily, he looked upwards into crinkled, worried eyes. It was Derek. He was worrying the inside of his lip, sea green eyes peering at his friend with a kind of concern that Stiles hadn't seen in Derek Hale's eyes in forever. “Stiles, are you... are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” the younger man replied rockily. “W-Why wouldn't I be? I mean- I'm just running for my life with my five-year-old daughter en tow, trying to defeat fucking demon ninjas that seem to be invincible and I'm burdening my dad and my pack and I don't even know if I really _am_ pack any more because I've been gone for five fucking years and fuckity fuck everything because I can't fucking _breathe_ -”

“ _Stiles_.”

Stiles stopped speaking, peering up the inch it took to look Derek in the eye. The beta was staring at him harshly, peering at him in that way that made the younger feel like a bug under a windshield. Sometimes he feared Derek could actually see into his soul. It was a terrifying thing, one that made Stiles feel vulnerable. But at the same time, it was... relieving, almost. It felt good, made him relax, that someone cared about him like that, that someone understood him to that extent.

“First off, and I speak for everyone when I say this, _you are pack_. No matter how long you've been gone, no matter how far away you've been, you are _ours_ , and we are _yours_. Second off, come with me.”

And without waiting for an answer, Derek twirled on his heel and began walking towards the garage, dragging Stiles behind him. “Wait! Where are we going?” the emissary squaked.

“Out.”

_And just when I thought he was growing up... Caveman responses again._

“Out _where_?”

Opening the door to his truck, Derek tossed Stiles a hoodie. _Where did he- whatever. Done with frickin' werewolves... Jesus..._ “Out to get your mind off stuff. Get in.” The last part was growled, and Stiles couldn't help but smirk at Derek from over the hood of his truck.

“Or what? You're gonna rip my throat out?”

Derek grinned, a toothy, sultry grin that made Stiles shiver. He partially shifted, sharp fangs and bright eyes flashing in the moonlight. “With my teeth.”

“ _Yup_ , getting in the car.”

 


	7. Of Skippy's, Pancakes, and Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek takes Stiles on a not-a-date date, Lana eats pancakes, and Lydia screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy!  
> ******PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE STEREK AND LANA WISE!!!!*******  
> warnings: violence, language  
> (I don't own Teen Wolf.)

Derek drove them to _Skippy's_ , a little 24-7 burger joint just down the block from the police station. It had a fifties-esque décor, white and black tiled floors with red plastic booths. A little bell rung as Derek led Stiles inside, going to sit at the bar. A short, plump woman with her hair in a rather obnoxious beehive padded over to them, smacking her gum and grinning happily as she took their order. Derek ordered for a cola and burger. Stiles asked chili cheese fries and a milkshake.

Turning to the younger man, Derek watched him sip at his water. Stiles's eyes were downcast, despite his perviously happy demeanor, and he radiated waves of discomfort.

Derek nudged Stiles with his elbow to be rewarded with molten caramel eyes. “How's Lana doing? Is she sleeping well?”

Stiles nodded, offering a minute smile as he twirled his straw around. “Yeah, actually. She hasn't had many nightmares recently. I think it's the feeling of safety that the pack gives her, y'know?”

The beta nodded in response, and Stiles peered up at him as he sipped his drink. “She did really well with her scent training.” Stiles grinned in response. “But, I'm a bit confused... She told me you didn't teach her anything about werewolves except for anchors, but she knew all about their eyes...”

Stiles made an 'o' with his lips and waved a hand in the air. “I didn't teach her much because Cole and Dmitri would always kidnap her and run off to talk to her. I'm surprised she remembers that, actually. She was only three when we left Poland.”

Their food came and Derek asked Stiles more about his family.

“Well, Cole and Dmitri are the werewolves, remember, and they've both got things for Olessia and Orya.”

“The succumbi?”

“Yeah.” Stiles laughed. “But I highly doubt that's gonna happen. I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure Olessia plays for a different team, if you get my drift. And Orya's too upset about Marek to be in a relationship. Marek, Jedrzej's brother, was her boyfriend...” Stiles drifted off, talking about his family and coven for a good ten minutes before he bit his tongue, blushing. “Sorry. I guess I just got carried away...” He chuckled nervously and Derek shrugged. “So... do you wanna talk about your family?”

The question was posed tentatively, but Derek still tensed. He looked down at his half-eaten burger, fingering the paper it sat upon. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, Derek blew it out shakily. “Yeah... Yeah, I think I do...”

Stiles waited patiently as Derek readied himself to speak.  _Something else new about him. Patience... I guess you kinda have to be patient with a five-year-old, though..._

“I guess- I guess I'll start with introducing everyone.” He swallowed then cleared his throat. “There was my mom and dad- Talia and David. My dad was human. Then there was Declan. He was twenty-three, and a human. Then Laura, and then me. Cora-”

“Is she still down in Brazil?” Stiles interrupted curiously, to which Derek nodded.

“We Skype every so often. She has a fiance, now.”

Stiles beamed. “That's great!”

Derek smiled back, warmth for his little sister filling his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, it is...” There was silence for a moment, until Stiles beckoned for Derek to continue. “Isaiah and Cheyney were the twins, both wolves. They were eleven when the fire... Anyways, they were always getting into trouble. Playing pranks, getting into fights, sneaking off the property.” A nostalgic smile rose on the man's face. “Declan would join them sometimes, but he was most often locked away in the loft. He was an artist. Taught me to sketch...”

“You can draw?”

Derek blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, a little.”

“Cool, dude!” Stiles accidentally tossed a fry up in his excitement, but didn't seem to notice. “Heh. Laura was artistic, too, but she was more... unique. She had at least a dozen tattoos, and her dream was to open up a bakery.”

Stiles was resting his chin on his fist, watching Derek with an intrigued gaze and a happy smile. _At least I'm taking his mind off his nightmares and the monsters..._ “Peter's mate, Michael, wasn't a human or a wolf. We're honestly not sure what he was, but I'm assuming he was something like you. A spark... They had a son, Errin. He was a wolf. He was... he was three...”

Gulping against the knot in his throat, Derek looked down at his plate, now unhungry. Something warm touched his arm, and the beta jolted, looking down to see Stiles's hand holding his tightly. Breath caught in his throat, Derek looked up at the emissary to see tears of empathy in his eyes. “I- I'm so sorry, Derek... I'm so sorry for Peter, too... I can't imagine losing Lana and-” Stiles bit his words off, facing his lap as tears trickled down his cheeks. Derek swore.

“I'm supposed to be taking your mind _off_ that,” he said, tilting Stiles's face up. The emissary's eyes flickered towards his friend's, and he smiled sadly.

“It's- It's fine, Der. I'm just- oh, I'm just being ridiculous.” Wiping away his tears, Stiles grinned and handed Derek his strawberry milkshake. “Try some! It's orgasmic, I swear!”

Ears tinging pink at Stiles's words, Derek tried the shake. “It's good.”

After they finished their food, Stiles stretched and looked towards the window with tired eyes. He yawned. “We should be getting back. Lana's okay with the pack, but I don't want her freaking out if I'm not there to help.”

Derek left a generous tip, once more leading Stiles through the door and back to the truck. _Not much happened this morning... but... Something feels different._ He peeked over at the man sitting in his passenger seat. _So much different..._

 

~ <> ~

 

“Daddy!”

Stiles laughed loudly as Lana latched her arms around his neck, swirling her around and looking into her flushed face, curls in disarray around her freckled face. Her eyes were flashing in between gold and gray, her teeth forming tiny fangs behind her grinning lips. “Daddy, Unc'a Scott an' Unc'a Izzy was playin' chase with me while Auntie Catwoman made pancakes an' she said we should wait for yous and Der until we ate but I was _hungry_ so Unc'a Izzy gave me a' apple an' then we-”

Still laughing, Stiles hushed the girl and bite her nose gently. “Well, d'you think Auntie Catwoman will let us have pancakes now?”

Lana nodded profusely, jumping from her father's arms and leading him to the kitchen where some of the pack was congregating. Kira and Scott sat at the head of the table, Isaac and Erica moving about the kitchen fixing drinks. Jackson was setting more plates, and Peter was sipping coffee in the corner. “Where's everyone else?” Derek addressed Scott.

“Aiden took Lydia home- something about needing some 'alone time'- and Ethan has Sunday shift at the station-”

“They do that for all the rookies,” Stiles jutted in.

“-Boyd's at work, too-”

“Where do Unc'a Boyd work?” Lana asked, frowning.

Stiles mimicked his faughter's face, to everyone's amusement. “Yeah. He didn't say what his job was, did he?”

“Firefighter,” Erica intoned with a sultry grin. “And, lemme tell you, he sure does fill out that uniform!”

“- _and_ ,” Scott continued, sounding annoyed at being interrupted so extensively, “Allison's at her dad's shop. The rest of us are here. Eating.”

“Thank you for that,” Derek snarked, “Never would have guessed.”

The Alpha oh-so-maturely stuck out his tongue before turning back to his wife. Lana was scarfing down pancakes by the time Derek sat, and Stiles was chiding her to eat slower. Derek took a coffee, no longer hungry from the diner, and watched his pack interact. Erica was crooning to both Lana and Isaac, rubbing the latter's hair and teasing him extensively about something to do with their school work. Isaac was blushing and trying to shove her off, while Lana was inching towards her packmates for attention. Kira and Scott were doing what they always did, flirting and being oblivious to the world around them, Jackson IM'ing his fiance on his computer. Peter was studying Stiles with a creepy curiosity. Stiles himself was looking beautiful in the morning light, watching his daughter with something that could only be described as pure devotion and affection. He was carding his fingers through her hair, working out the tangles. Derek felt a warmth fill his stomach, and his chest felt lighter for once in several years. His wolf made a happy noise, throat growing thick, and howled to him _“Mate!”_ Derek quickly shoved the thought aside though. _He has enough on his mind other than_ that _..._

“Der! Der! Can we play today?”

The beta looked down to see Lana peering up at him with a grin, hands clasped in front of her. Erica spoke up before Derek could reply. “It's supposed to snow today. First time in two years.”

“Global warming!” Stiles outcried, to which Scott made a face of faux horror towards him. Kira laughed. Lana had a confused pout on her face, nose scrunched up as she mouthed the word _'snow'_. Stiles chuckled at his daughter and addressed her, “Snow is _śnieg_ , _kochanie_.”

Face lighting up, the little werewolf did a happy-dance in a circle, singing aloud, “Snow, _śnieg_ , snow! _Śnieg,_ snow _, śnieg_!” The pack laughed at her actions, even Peter. It was then that the oldest werewolf stepped forward, crouching next to her.

“We might have a sleigh up in the attic,” he enticed her with a sly grin. “Derek and Laura used to sled all the time in New York. How does that sound? I'm sure we can get dear old Daddy and Der to go up and find it.”

Lana whirled around to her father and Derek, a look of pure childish anticipation upon her face. It made Derek's heart lurch to see her so happy, so carefree and innocent versus the first time he had seen her- sobbing and clutching to her father, blood spattered on her face and clothes. It was in that moment that Derek decided he would do whatever he could to keep that look on Lana's features.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug, looking to Stiles. “There might not be a lot of powder snow, but there should be enough ice to skate around on the drive-way.”

Stiles opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by a phone ringing. Confusion twisted on the man's features as he looked to his disposable cell, the caller unidentified. “I don't know who it is.”

The mood in the room suddenly tensed, and Scott spoke, “Do you think it's them?”

Jackson snorted. “Yeah, McCall, because ancient voo-doo demons are gonna suddenly be able to use technology.”

“He has a point,” Kira pointed out to her husband, although her eyes were on Stiles. Lana whimpered at the sudden chill in the room and lunged to her father, burrowing her face in his stomach as she shook in fright. Derek rumbled deep in his chest, cursing all technology at that moment.

Stiles took a deep breath and answered his phone.

His face suddenly melded into a relieved smile. “Luka! Dude, what the He-heck? Why are you- How did you get my number?” The room relaxed, and Lana sat up on her father's lap, reaching with 'gimme' hands towards the phone as she chanted “Unc'a Luka, Unc'a Luka”. Stiles petted her head as he listened to his cousin talk. Derek tuned in, tilting his head forward to hear better.

“ _Stanislav! Man, it is good to hear your voice.”_ Luka's accent was thick, and Derek wondered why they were speaking English. _Then again, if these monsters are Polish in origin, they might not understand English._

“Dude, is it safe to be calling?”

“ _I don't know, which is why I am making this quick. We cannot wait until the new moon to speak.”_

Stiles's face turned sour, and he lifted Lana off his lap and allowed Isaac to hold her as he walked into the other room. With a glance at Scott, who nodded, Derek followed the emissary.

“What's going on?”

“ _They attacked again. Orya... Orya's dead, Stanislav... Zan is not it good shape, either. They did something to him. He's in a trance, or something. He's asleep, but he's got fever and is writhing around everywhere. Cole and Dmitri are taking his pain, but... Stanislav, we don't think he is going to make it.”_ Luka's last sentence came out in a strangled sob, and Stiles himself was shedding a few tears, his heart beating faster.

“O-Ori? She's really...? And Zan- oh, God, _Zan_...” Stiles braced himself on the wall, his knees shaking. Derek's eyebrows furrowed, and he was quickly at the younger man's side, holding him up. Stiles clutched to Derek's bicep, leaning into him instinctually.

“ _Stiles,_ ojciec _says that it is not safe here. We think they are looking for you two-”_

“They know we're here, though!” Stiles exclaimed, running a panicked hand through his hair and tugging. “Luka, I came home- home to Beacon Hills. They've attacked us already- don't worry, my pack saved us-” Derek snorted “-but what- I thought they were after Lana?”

“ _...There's more, Stani... Orya was pregnant.”_

The noise that came from Stiles's throat could only be described as a butchered gasp. “Wh- _What_?”

“ _Apparently she and Dmitri were keeping their relationship on the down-low. But- yeah. She was pregnant... Stiles, these things, whatever they are- what if they're not coming after just Lana? What if they're coming after supernatural kids?”_

“Why just our coven?” Stiles gasped out, fighting back tears. Derek noted the way the man steeled his jaw and stance, although his knees were still shaking. “Why just us?”

“ _I'm not so sure it's just us. We found some of Magda's notes. This has happened before, Stanislav. And not just to us. There's over a three cases documented- all over the world. There was a baby kitsune in Japan that just disappeared out of her crib one night. Her parents were both in the same state as Zan. And there was another case of a dhampir in Wisconsin, and then a banshee in-”_

“Banshee. Oh, God, _Lydia_ -” Stiles whirled around to face Derek. “Derek, if this thing is going after supernatural kids-”

Derek was already on his way back to the kitchen, ringing Aiden and barking for Scott, Jackson, and Isaac to “get off their collective asses” and come with him.

“ _Stani- Stiles. STILES!”_

“Luka, I'm sorry, but one of my packmates-”

“ _Stiles, this is important. We found some other notes in Magda's room. They were her own, just amateur, but she had a theory. A theory of how to kill them.”_

“Aiden says nothing's wrong right now, but they'll meet us at your dad's,” Derek said to Stiles as he the others rushed out the door, save Kira who was holding a whimpering Lana upon her hip, trying to shush the girl.

“What's the theory, Luka?” Stiles asked, squeezing Derek's arm in recognition. The emissary was struggling to juggle everything that was going on, and his chest was constricting near a panic attack. Derek, seeming to sense it, put a strong hand on the smaller man's shoulder.

“ _It's complicated, and I don't have a lot of time left, Stiles- I'm on a payphone- but I will be there soon to explain. I'm flying out to Vegas, but I will be at Beacon Hills by the new moon. I swear to it, I just have to throw them off my trail-”_

“Are they _following_ you, Luka?”

“ _No, not them, but- but someone is, I believe. A man. I do not know what he has to do with these things or Orya or Lana or_ you _but-_ gówno _, I think that is him! Goodbye, Stanislav._ Bądź bezpieczny i silny. _”_

“ _Bądź bezpieczny i silny_ , Luka,” Stiles replied before hanging up. Lana let out a petulant sob and kicked her way out of Kira's arms, launching herself towards her father.

“Daddy, Daddy!” she whimpered, latching onto his knees. “Is Unc'a Luka okay?”

“He's fine, _księżniczka_ ,” Stiles lied to her. Fortunately, the girl was still young and didn't know how to read lies. She sighed in relief and rubbed her cheek against her father's pants, looking up to Derek with watery eyes.

“Auntie Lydia?” she asked him. Derek looked at Stiles, who was only just coming back from the verge of a panic attack, and crouched next to the littlest wolf.

“She'll be alright, too, Lana. Uncles Isaac, Scott, Jackson, and Peter are going to get her and Uncle Aiden. They'll be okay.”

Lana nodded, offering a watery smile as she hugged Derek's neck. The beta hugged her back and then pushed her gently towards Kira. “Take her to the Sheriff's; we'll meet you there.”

As Kira went about bundling Lana up, Derek pulled Stiles aside. “Stiles, do you think your cousin will really be able to help us?”

Eyes concrete, jaw tight, the young man nodded. “I trust him, Derek.”

His heart was unwavering. Derek nodded. “Okay.”

 

~ <> ~

Lana could feel the waves of emotions rolling off her father like a tsunami. The rest of the pack seemed agitated, as well, but only her father seemed to be panicking irrationally. “Daddy,” she whimpered, only to be pulled away from him by her Auntie Kira.

“Here you go, baby,” Kira said with a smile as she began to put a little jacket and scarf on Lana. “Uncle Isaac loves scarves, y'know? He always wears his favorite, a little beige one.” Kira was trying to take her mind off of everything, but Lana wouldn't have it. She was too smart for her age.

“Auntie Ki'a, why is eve'ybody worried 'bout Auntie Lydia?”

Kira paused, wondering what she should say. Stiles had been only honest with Lana whenever Kira saw the two interact, but the kitsune had sensed his lie when he assured the little girl her uncle would be fine. “...We're doing everything we can to make sure she's gonna be okay, alright, baby?”

Lana whimpered, her eyes flashing yellow, and wailed, “I don' wan' anybody to get hurt cuz' a' me!” Tears were rolling down the little girl's face now, fat droplets that reddened her eyes and nosee.

“Oh, Lana,” Kira crooned, wrapping her arms around the girl and pulling her into her bosom. “This is _not_ your fault, do you hear me, baby? This is no one's fault.”

“T-Then w-why are the monsters tryin' ta hurt me an' Daddy an' Auntie Lydia?” Lana protested as she rubbed her eyes.

“Because sometimes bad things like this just happen, Lana. And I know it's scary,” Kira wiped away a stray tear from the girl's face, “but we have to be brave, okay? Your Daddy is a very smart man, and with the help of the pack, we'll be able to make the monsters go away. Do you believe in your Daddy?”

When Lana nodded, Kira grinned. “Good. I do, too.” Rising to her full height, the kitsune flipped her hair over her shoulder and used her heat sensing to see who was still at the house. Derek and Stiles had just left after the others on Stiles's motorcycle, leaving Kira and Lana alone in the house. “Let's get goin', ba-”

“AUGH!”

Lana's shriek rang through the house, high-pitched, loud, and heartbreaking. Kira could hardly hear a dull _bang_ beneath it, similar to that of a gun being fired. The smell of gunpowder and wolfsbane filled the air, and Kira threw her body over Lana's to protect her from whoever was shooting, simultaneously lunging to the side to take cover under the coffee table. Heart pounding, head throbbing, eyes closed tightly, Kira buried her face in Lana's hair, waiting for the intruder to take off or enter the house, guns blazing.

For two minutes, nothing happened.

And then Kira smelt the blood.

Her heart jolted, and the woman pulled Lana away from her chest to see the child's head lolling backwards, eyes closed, a sickly red substance leaking from her side and dripping onto Kira's body. “Lana! O-Oh, _God_ , no- Lana- LANA!”

 

~ <> ~

 

“What the Hell, Stiles?! I'm fine, Aiden's fine, the baby's fine, what the Hell are you-”

“The things,” Stiles gasped, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath. His motorcycle was lying haphazardly on the front lawn, and the pack was inside the house, sniffing around and trying to get a scent for the monsters. “The things, they're coming after supernatural kids. They killed Orya because she was pregnant with a supernatural, and-”

“Well, I'm _fine_ ,” Lydia spoke emphatically, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling. Scott appeared over her shoulder, shaking his head at Stiles.

“There's nothing here, Stiles. Are we sure that the monsters are coming after-”

“ _Yes_ ,” Stiles ground out, shaking his head. “Luka said that it was in Magda's notes-”

“Maybe Magda was just an old, crazy bat,” Jackson snarked, earning a snarl from Stiles. The beta rolled his eyes in response.

“Maybe the monsters are only going after the children who are already born,” Aiden input. Stiles shook his head.

“No, no because they wouldn't have killed Orya-”

“Who's to say they're the things that killed her?”

Stiles snapped his head over to Derek, the speaker, feeling rather fed up at the pack's doubt about his family. He opened his mouth to protest, earning a Hale-glare. “ _Not_ the way I meant that, Stiles. I meant what if these things are being controlled like the Kanima was? What if they're just someone's little soldiers, like the Oni for the kitsune?” He sent Stiles a look. “Your cousin, Luke-”

“ _Luka_.”

“- _Luka_ , said he was being followed, right? Well what if whoever was following him is the person who controls these things?”

“Then we need to have guards on Lydia and Lana at all times,” Aiden growled, wrapping a possesive hand around his mate and her stomach. Lydia rolled her eyes, but turned her head to kiss Aiden's cheek anyways.

“Lydia, was there anything weird when you guys first- Lydia?”

Lydia's face was suddenly pale, her eyes wide as she stared at Stiles.

And then, she screamed.

 

~ <> ~


	8. Aconitum reclinatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lana is a werewolf and Derek is oblivious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is so short! It has a lot in it though, and I felt this was a good way to end it. 
> 
> *: all wolfsbane- or monkshood, whatever you call it- is poisonous to humans, whether it be by ingestion, touch, or scent. I simply used this type of wolfsbane as 'also poisonous to humans' for plot purposes.
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> "nie, nie, nie, nie, nie. Proszę, kochanie, proszę. Drogi Boże, proszę, nie moje dziecko. Nie moje dziecko"- no, no, no, no, no. Please, baby, please. Dear God, please, not my child. Not my baby
> 
> WARNINGS: unbeta'd, violence, language, slash

“Lydia-”

“-know who-”

“What should we-”

“-call Kira-”

“SHUT UP!”

Lydia was gasping and clutching to Aiden, and Stiles was glaring down the entire pack. “Yes, she's a banshee, yes she just screamed, but she's also a _pregnant woman_! Give her some freaking air, jesus!” He flicked his hands in the air spazztically before whirling on his heel to look at the ginger and her husband. “You okay, Lydia?”

Looking much less pale, but still fearful, Lydia nodded to her friend. “But, S-Stiles...”

“What, Lydia?”

“It- It's-” Her eyes filled with tears, teeth worrying her lower lip as she sobbed out, “It's Lana. It's Lana, Stiles, it's _Lana_ -”

But Stiles was already out the door, phoning Kira and reaching for his motorcycle. “Kira, Kira, Kira- pick up, pick up, pick up, pickuppickuppick _up_ -”

“STILES!”

Strong hands turned him around, and Stiles was suddenly looking at beautiful hazel-green eyes and a stubbled jaw. “Stiles, calm down, okay? Your heart is way too fast-”

“It's my _daughter_ , Derek-” Stiles began, only to be broken off by a sob that involuntarily wracked his frame. Derek surged forward, pulling Stiles into a hug. He stroked the younger man's back, whispering, “Calm down, Stiles. Please, calm down. She'll be fine, but you're in no condition to drive, okay? I'll drive us there, and she'll be fine-”

“Guys!” Scott came running out on the front porch, thrusting his cell phone forward. “Kira says to meet her at Deaton's.”

Stiles's face could only be described as one of pure horror. Derek picked up the motorcycle, swinging himself and the emissary onto it and revving it up. “Meet you there!” he hollared back to the pack, swiftly taking the cycle onto the street and getting it up to seventy in a half second.

Behind him, Stiles burrowed his face into Derek's shirt, his fearful tears wetting the fabric, arms twitching around the werewolf's gut. Derek pushed the gas harder.

 

~ <> ~

 

The sign on the veterinary's door was changed to 'CLOSED', but Kira's car was outside it. The strong scent of blood and wolfsbane carried through the parking lot all the way through the front door, back beyond the hallway and past the mountain ash barrier into the surgical room.

Scott led the pack inside, ordering them to stay back and out of the way unless they received any specific orders otherwise. Meanwhile, Derek, Stiles, and Scott were charging their way into the back room.

Kira was standing next to a metal table, holding on tightly with both of her hands to a smaller, much, much paler hand. Dr. Deaton himself was running around the room, pulling out herbs and flowers- several different types of wolfsbane, if the scent was anything to go by- as he kept sending glances back towards Kira and the little girl on the table.

Lana was lying down on the cold metal, her shirt torn off of her. Her skin was ashen, her eyes dark on the under lid. Her little chest was breathing ragged breaths, heaving with rasping puffs of air as she tried to breathe. Deaton had placed an oxygen mask over her face, but that didn't seem to be helping any. Along the girl's side was a bloody mess of skin, a bullet hole that showed a glistening silver piece stuck inside her flesh. Dark, thick veins could be seen through her small torso, and a purple, glowing hue resided around her wound.

“ _Kochanie_ ,” Stiles exclaimed, running to her and threading his fingers through her sweat-slicked hair. “Oh, God, no. No, no- _nie, nie, nie, nie, nie. Proszę, kochanie, proszę. Drogi Boże, proszę, nie moje dziecko. Nie moje dziecko_ -”

Derek appeared at Lana's other side, taking her hand into his own and closing his eyes tightly. He swore as black veins of pain were pulled from the little werewolf's body and into his own. “S-Shit, that's strong. Deaton, this isn't normal wolfsbane-”

“I know,” Deaton replied calmly, although he looked anything other than that. “Scott, get some gloves on and help me.” Scott did as his old mentor had ordered him. Stiles was frantically searching his daughter's body, trying to figure out a way he could help. Derek glanced at Stiles and, with a sigh, took the emissary's hand. Said emissary jolted, looking up at Derek with wide eyes, before he gave a sickly smile and squeezed the beta's hand in reply. With his free palm, Stiles took Lana's other hand and held it to his face, kissing her fingers and whispering warmly to her and completeing their little circle.

“It's a type of wolfsbane I've only seen once before,” Deaton suddenly spoke as he roved over the flowers he had splayed out on a side counter. “ _Aconitum reclinatum_ , Trailing Wolfsbane, White Aconite, White Monkshood,” Deaton spoke as he picked up a long stem of white-green buds, placing it in a stone mortar, “whatever you call it, it is very hard to grow and has many conditions under it. It is fatal even to humans*.” He grinded the substance down with a matching pestle, eyes flashing up to meet Stiles'. “Whoever did this had the intention of hurting someone, of killing someone. And they went to great lengths to do it.”

“Can- can you help her?” Stiles gasped out, voice cracking.

“I can try...”

Deaton lit the grinds of the flower with a lighter, backing away from the mortar when white-hot sparks erupted from it. It took only a moment for the sparks to die down, leaving a milky smog in their wake. With a gloved hand, Deaton used his fingers to scrape the wolfsbane out and press it into Lana's wound.

Her screams were horrifying, and Derek knew he would  _never_ forget them. High-pitched and bloodcurdling, Lana's screams cracked with her dry throat, her body spasming on the table as she tried to fight off whatever was hurting her. Scott moved to hold down her legs, and Derek held down her wrists. Stiles held his daughter's face in his hands, speaking in Polish to her and trying to consol her as she fought an intangible enemy.

After what seemed like hours, Lana's shrieks died down into frail whimpers. Her eyes cracked open, showing bright yellow irises behind puffy lids, and she blinked under the harsh lights. “D-Daddy?” she croaked.

Stiles let out a relieved sob, pulling Lana into his arms and gripping her tightly, careful of her wound, and kissed her face repeatedly. “Oh, God,  _kochanie_ , Daddy's so sorry. Daddy's so, so, so sorry. I'll never leave you again, do you understand?  _Never_ again,  _kochanie_ , never again. Oh, God, baby...”

Deaton weasled his way in between Stiles and Lana, using tweezers to pull out the bullet while the girl was distracted. She winced, but went back to accepting kisses from her father shortly. The hole healed over only a moment later, but her skin was still red like a rash. Deaton turned to Derek, who was watching with a relieved expression, although his brows were terse. “She'll be alright, now. She may be drowsy and dizzy for a few days, and expect a loss of appetite. This is just because she's such a young wolf, her body will be trying to heal itself and fight off the after effects of the wolfsbane. Try to get her to eat three meals a day, though, but if she doesn't, a few snacks throughout will be good. And most importantly,  _keep her hydrated._ ”

Derek nodded, although the words went in one ear and out the other. Over the beta's head, Scott rolled his eyes and addressed Deaton.

Derek was too busy watching Stiles nuzzle his daughter to hear.

 

~ <> ~

 

Lana was sitting in Stiles's lap, leaning heavily against his stomach, with half-lidded eyes as she nibbled on a gingerbread cookie. Melissa, having checked out of work as soon as she heard, was moving around the kitchen baking like how she typically did when she was nervous. It was a habit that Stiles had picked up from the many years of knowing his psuedo-mom. Scott was leaning against the doorframe, every once in a while helping his mother reach a pan that was just out of her grip or crouching next to Lana and feeling her forehead before taking a little bit of her feverish, achy pain. Derek sat across from Stiles, watching both emissary and daughter as he fought back the urge to claw at the table. As per orders, the rest of the pack was split up between guarding Lydia and their own jobs or sleep, whichever was the most prominent need at the time.

Stroking Lana's hair and staring off into space, Stiles kissed her temple. The little werewolf crooned something in Polish and curled into her father's chest, her eyes finally closing after fighting sleep for so long. “I'm right here, _kochanie_ ,” Stiles encouraged her, holding her close and allowing his heartbeat to lull her to sleep.

Derek looked over at Scott and Melissa, both of whom were watching the scene with sad eyes. Melissa met Derek's gaze, lips pursed, and nodded before nudging Scott out of the kitchen. “Come help me take some of this nextdoor. Heaven knows how much of a sweet tooth Miss Delano has.” Once they were alone, Derek scooted his chair closer to Stiles and threaded his fingers through Lana's locks, scratching her scalp while also taking some of her pain. He was quiet for some time, but finally, Stiles spoke.

“I shouldn't have left her alone.”

“Stiles-”

“ _No_ , Derek.” The young man shook his head violently. “Don't try to make excuses for me. I shouldn't have left her alone. We know those things are still out there, and I'm her _father_ , her _protector_. It's my job to make sure she's safe and happy and I failed and now she's hurt and she almost fucking _died_ and-”

“Stiles!” Cupping the other man's face, Derek stared him in the eye with a kind of stubborn possesiveness and undying faith that only a werewolf could muster. “Calm your heartrate before she wakes up with her claws out.” Stiles closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out through his nose.

It was in that moment that Derek made a decision that would change their relationship forever.

Pulling Stiles close, the werewolf buried his face in the man's hair and inhaled deeply, feeling Lana pressed up against his chest and stroking the emissary's lower back with his fingertips. Stiles's warm skin thrummed beneath the touch, even with the protective layer of cotton. “Stiles, you are a good father- a _great_ father. You have no reason to feel guilt. We know the monsters don't come out during the day, and it was about ten in the morning- the sun was up already. You left her with Kira, a kitsune- stronger even than a werewolf. Even if you had been there, Stiles, you don't have precognition powers. There was no way you could have known that someone was going to attack. You were reeling from the loss of one of your coven and worried about Luka, so when you figured out that Lydia- practically your sister- was in possible danger, you went with your primal instinct to protect. You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

Stiles was silent as he pulled away from Derek, staring into the man's eyes. Then, he snorted. “Wow. I don't think I've heard you say that much in years.”

The werewolf rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I don't think I've heard you be so _quiet_ in years.”

They laughed for a minute before falling into an uncomfortable quiet. Stiles fidgeted, and Derek realized that he was still clinging to the younger man. Blushing bright red, he pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, sorry-”

“No, it's fine-”

“-personal space and all-”

“-really not a big deal-”

“-stupid instincts-”

“-do you want to come to bed? With us, I mean?” Derek stared wide-eyed at the question, causing Stiles's ears to turn a bright red. “I- I mean- Lana seemed to really enjoy it when you- when you accidentally fell asleep last time, and- and I know that I feel safer when you're around and God knows that I could use a bit of feeling safer these days because I'm the one always doing the protecting and you-” He stopped. It took a second for the emissary to recover from his babbling, to slow his heart, but he finally looked up at Derek with those rusted gold eyes and long eyelashes, and- _Holy shit, he's gorgeous_ \- “You make me feel safe...”

That was how Derek found himself cuddling Stiles against his chest up in said emissary's bedroom, Lana pressed between them and hugging either man's hand to her face, little breaths being pulled from her chest periodically. It took only minutes for Stiles to fall asleep, body curled in a ring around Lana and his head resting on Derek's collarbone. The werewolf was rubbing his hand up and down Stiles's side, accidentally pulling the cotton shirt up an inch. And there, beneath the fabric, lay a black ink triskele swirl, right on top of the lean, jutting hip.

Breath catching in his throat, Derek closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, fighting down the wolf as it urged to _bite_ , to _claim_ , to _mark, hold, kiss, love, MATE._

He settled for kissing the younger man's forehead and falling into an unsteady sleep.

 

~ <> ~

 

He was awoken to whimpering.

Lana was shifting about on the bed, still asleep, tears welling in her eyes and cries of pain being wretched from her throat as she squirmed. Stiles was shushing her, half asleep himself, rubbing her shoulders and holding her tightly. “Ssh, ssh, _słoneczko_ , Daddy's here. _Tatuś jest tutaj_ , _kochanie_ , Daddy's here. Ssh-”

“Let me.” His voice was deep and scratchy from sleep, and a quick glance to the bedside clock said that it was two in the morning. Taking Lana into his arms, Derek pressed a hand to her stomach beneath her shirt, black veins leading from the young werewolf's tiny body and stretching up through the man's hand and wrist. Lana's whimpers faded to nothing, her face relaxing as she leaned into Derek's touch, snuffling happily and nuzzling his chest with her button nose.

“Heh. Thanks.”

“Don't mention it,” Derek replied, laying Lana down on the pillows. She cooed happily and padded her hand around until Stiles shoved her white stuffed bunny in the right direction. A joyful sigh passed her lips as she hugged the bunny to her chest, chewing on its ear leisurely.

Stiles glanced over at Derek, fidgeting. The werewolf cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing. It wasn't until Stiles made an obnoxiously loud sigh that Derek looked to him with both eyebrows lifted in a silent “yes?”. His fidgeting worsening, Stiles crept over towards Derek on the bed. “I- I just- I think, Derek, that we can both agree that sharing a bed on multiple occasions is not simply... platonic.”

Derek's heart lurched into his throat. _Shit. Shit. Fuck shit. Fuck a duck._ “...Alright.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, giving Derek an incredulous look. “So...?”

“So...?”

The emissary snorted derisively, shaking his head. “Nothing. Nevermind. Goodnight, Derek.” And Stiles curled up next to his daughter, going back to sleep. Derek, unsure of what to do, excused himself and went back to his house for the night. He could use a good, long run in the forest. Exercise felt great on tense muscles. Besides, Scott and Kira were both at the house as well, using the guest room. Stiles and Lana were safe. Derek was unneeded.

 


	9. Bubbles Are Better Than Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cora and Malia arrive in America, Cora knocks some sense into Derek, and Derek plays in a bubble bath. Stiles is not aroused. He's NOT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: cursing, un-beta'd, slash  
> Sorry for the delay! I hope you like it!!!
> 
> **** leave what you want to see in the comments and it may come to happen... ****

Stiles had terrible dreams that night.

He twisted and turned, gasping for air and clutching at the blankets. Sweat poured down his neck and shoulders as he groaned, clawing into the sheets and tearing holes in them even without claws. A paticular shock ran through his system, waking the man up and making him sit bolt-right in bed, chest heaving and eyes wild. His breath had been stolen away from him by cold, intangible fingers that shoved their way down his throat. Shaking vehemently, Stiles crawled his way to sit on the corner of his bed, shoving his head between his knees as he counted backwards from one hundred, eyes closed tightly and lungs inhaling shallow breaths. It took ten minutes. Ten long, agonizing minutes. When he looked up, Stiles saw Kira staring at him from the barely-cracked doorway, her lower lip being worried between her teeth and her eyes flashing a bright gold. Lana resided on her hip, half-asleep and half clutching at her bunny, mumbling into its ear.

Stiles shook his head at her, and Kira shut the door.

 

~ <> ~

 

“C- _Cora_?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Cora mocked as she shoved her way in the door. She looked around the house, eyebrows raised, impressed. “Nice. New paint?”

“Well, it has been about ten years since you've been here, so...”

“Six, Stiles. Don't exaggerate.”

Following Cora into the house was her friend, a were-coyote named Malia who just-so-happened to be Peter's daughter. Behind Malia was Derek, looking sheepish. Malia greeted Stiles with a smug smirk that reminded him just how much she was her father's daughter. “Not that I'm not glad to see you- which I'm actually not, seeing as how all you ever liked to do was threaten me bodily harm- but what the Hell are you doing here?”

Cora shrugged off her jacket, sending Stiles an incredulous look. “Really?”

“Need we explain?” Malia snarked as she put a hand in her back pocket.

“Yes, little miss I'll-just-help-you-guys-kill-the-demon-wolf-fox-thing-and-then-just-disappear-off-the-face-of-the-planet-”

“I didn't disappear off the face of the planet, I went to Brazil,” Malia corrected Stiles. “Peter, Derek, and I went down to visit Cora, and I decided to stay.”

“Yeah, and why the Hell did you do that, again? And why didn't Peter stay?”

Derek raised a hand, shaking his head. “Don't ask, Stiles. Just... don't ask.”

Scott stumbled down the stairs, Lana upon his hip. “Kira's at wor- Cora? Malia? What-”

“Nice to see you, too, Scott,” Malia replied too sweetly to be sincere, eyeing the child on the Alpha's hip. “And who is this sweet little wolf?”

Lana whimpered under the stranger's gaze, squirming until Scott put her down and running to hide behind Stiles's legs. “Daddy,  _którzy są te panie_ ?”

“These are Daddy's friends, _kochanie_ ,” Stiles replied, pulling the child to his hip. She hid her face in his hoodie, making Malia coo. “That one is Miss Cora, Der's little sister, and that one is Miss Malia, Der's cousin.”

“H-Hi,” Lana whispered, waving slightly and making even Cora 'aww' at her. Scott came to stand next to Stiles, scowling with his arms crossed. His eyes flashed red, and Lana tensed next to him.

“Cora, Malia, what are you doing here?”

“Again, nice to see you, Mr. Alpha,” Cora sneered, eyes narrowed at said alpha. “To answer your question, though, Uncle Peter called us. Said that you guys could use some help.”

“We've seen this before,” Malia expanded, nodding slightly towards Lana. “The demons.”

Lana whimpered at mention of the monsters, holding on tighter to her father and looking away from Malia's gaze. Stiles rubbed her back, shushing her quietly. “Let's talk in the kitchen.”

Once they were all sitting and had coffee- or milk and cereal, in Lana's case- Scott cleared his throat and leaned against the table towards Malia and Cora. “Alright.”

It was all Malia needed to start talking. “Three years ago, there was a case just like this in a coven not too far from our pack's territory. The coven was pretty big- ten witches and at least a dozen other spangled Fae and supernaturals in between. They only had one child, though, a twelve-year-old banshee.”

Cora picked up where Malia left off. “The coven was strong, one of the strongest I've ever seen. But, a few days after the full moon, half of their numbers were gone.”

“Gone?” Stiles asked.

“Gone, dead, slaughtered,” Malia put in, eyes narrowing. “They came to us for help, but since it was obvious that the demons were after the banshee child, our Alpha declined. We have at least a half dozen pups in our pack, and we don't need any more targets on us than we already have from shit-head hunters.”

“No bad words!” Lana chirped, frowning at Malia. The woman was so taken aback by the sudden loud voice coming from the shy girl that she lurched backwards. Stiles and Scott laughed, and Derek fought for composure as Cora and Malia exchanged looks.

“Go on,” Scott addressed them.

Cora shook her head and continued. “Anyways, our Alpha turned them away. Mali and I felt terrible about it, so we went with two more of our pack mates to check on the coven. Not to intervene, but to check on them. We found...” She swallowed, eyes closing momentarily. Malia took her cousin's hand, eyes showing sympathy. Stiles covered Lana's ears, but the child wasn't paying attention anyways.

“They were completely torn apart. The entire place, demolished. And the child was there... His body, at least. It was white and -and pale,” Malia stuttered, her eyes getting glassy. “They had... They had consumed his soul.”

“Whatever these things are,” Cora growled, “they eat the souls of children.”

“Why didn't you stay with your pack?” Scott asked, surprised. “If they're after kids souls and your pack has kids-”

“They're all eighteen, now,” Malia said sideways. “They weren't necessarily _kids_ in the first place, but our Alpha didn't want to take any chances. Besides, Derek emailed us asking if we knew anything. So... here we are.”

“You could have just replied,” Derek deadpanned, earning a shove from both his sister and cousin.

“We brought gifts,” Cora replied with a frown in her brother's direction. “It looked like the coven was gearing up to fight back against the demons. They had a few notes, not many, but a few-”

“-And they had this,” Malia finished, bringing out a palm-sized burlap sack. She opened it and showed the insides to the others around her. Lana squirmed upwards on Stiles's lap, nearly stepping on his nether regions as she tried to see into the sack. It wasn't much- just a fine powder that smelled heavily of-

“Fire?”

“Blackfire,” Cora corrected.

“What the He-eck is blackfire?” Scott asked with a pointed frown.

Surprisingly, it was Derek who spoke. He was sitting up on the edge of his seat, scowling at the table as if it held the answers to life and was waving them in his face in a paper sack. “Blackfire is unholy fire. Demons can use it, and some evil warlocks and witches.” He looked up, his face twisting into one of confusion. “It's potent like wolfsbane, but not to the body. It poisons the soul if inhaled or used in spells. Why would those things be using blackfire?”

“And why haven't they used it on us?” Stiles asked, to which Malia shook her head.

“We're not sure, but the fact that they haven't used it yet and they're still apparently primal things makes us believe that there are actual people behind this-”

“-Not to mention the fact that we also found bullet casings, mountain ash, and traces of white monkshood in the coven fort.”

At the same time Stiles said “White Monkshood?” Derek and Scott both growled, “Hunters”.

“Our thoughts exactly.”

 

~ <> ~

 

“The answer cannot simply be 'hunters' every time, Scott-”

“I _know_ , Deaton, but hear us out!”

The shifters and emissary had instantly gone to Deaton with their newfound information. Derek was leaning against the wall with Cora by his side, Stiles standing next to where Lana sat on a stool, twiddling her thumbs and chewing on her father's jacket strings. Malia was standing behind to Scott, having already handed Deaton the blackfire ashes.

Deaton sighed heavily, a deep sigh that Stiles had heard many times before. “I have heard you out, Scott, and I understand your concerns. What I'm saying, though, is if whoever is behind this is using blackfire ashes to summon these demons to suck out children's souls,” he repeated the pack's theory, “then they cannot simply be hunters. There must be some sort of magic involved in their blood for them to be able to hone the ashes so strongly-”

“So, what, a witch with a vendetta against kids?” Stiles sassed with a raised eyebrow. Deaton sent him _that_ look, the one that let him know the veterinarian was becoming rather tired of his job and was ready to smack someone, so 'don't-try-him'.

“Perhaps. And perhaps your cousin will be able to shed more light on the subject when he arrives.”

“Wait! How did you know Luka- oh, nevermind... Damn emissaries...”

“You're an emissary now, too,” Cora reminded him, only to earn a paper towel ball to the cheek. She snarled, arm raised to throw it back, before Derek sent her a stare. She huffed and crushed the paper beneath her claws.

“I'll do some more research,” Deaton spoke aloud, drawing everyone's attention once more. “Starting with what creatures can be summoned with blackfire ashes. Now, if you don't mind, I have a poodle coming in for a vasectomy in a few minutes.”

Lana yawned, and Stiles took that an an excuse to leave. He and Scott were halfway out the door when Cora grasped the emissary's elbow. “Stiles, wait... I don't know what's going on with you and Derek, but... I've never seen him happier than when you came back.” She offered a small smile, and Stiles steeled his features although he knew his rapid heartbeat was giving him away. “He Skyped me and Malia and we were so shocked to see him smiling... It was like back before the fire, before Kate, before Paige- before _everything_. And I don't know what you are to him, but... Take care of him, or I'll rip your throat out.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, hefting Lana higher on his hip. “It's not me, Cora. It's your doofus brother.” He shook his head, eyes growing moist. “Just can't take a hint.”

Cora let of of Stiles's sleeve, allowing him to follow Scott to the car. She turned, arms crossed and scowling at Derek as the werewolf entered the room. He startled when he saw his sister's murderous glare, eyebrows furrowing. “...Yes?”

Cora threw her hands in the air. “I swear to _God,_ you two are just so- ARGH.” Slamming her way out the door, Cora missed the laugh that flew from Malia's lips and the slight smirk Deaton shot towards Derek.

 

~ <> ~

 

_**Im fine. dont worry. b there soon. hug szczeniak for me.** _

Stiles sighed heavily at the test, relief washing over him even as he rubbed a hand down his face as he read Luka's text. It had been two days since he had heard last from his cousin, two days since Derek had run off and left him alone, two agonizing days of waiting for the _things_ to attack again. Everyone was on-edge, ready for the oncoming attack that may not even come. Scott had hopefully voiced to Stiles that maybe they had moved on, maybe they had seen that Lana was too protected and maybe they were scared. Stiles had laughed mirthlessly and shaken his head before going into full panic-attack mode, Lana whimpering and clawing at her Daddy's shirt while Scott held his head between his knees.

Lana shifted, and Stiles looked over at her. After much rest, the little werewolf was feeling better, although she had a scar over the soft pudge of her belly that Stiles looked at and cried over when she was asleep.

Looking in the mirror, Stiles ran a hand over his cheeks, noting how gaunt they had become. His entire face seemed sunken in, bags appearing over his lower eyelids and veins sticking out obnoxiously on his neck and hands. He was still muscular, the lean meat that he had perfected over the years kept strong by exercise, but the typical layer of fat that protected him and kept him warm had disappeared, leaving his ribs to show through thin skin. His tattoos stuck out brighter than ever, and Stiles ghosted fingertips over them, reading their intricate lines like a picture book. “ _Auxillim daemonis_ ,” he said the name of one, a star surrounded by flames. “ _Impetum potentia_... _Armatus..._ ” He paused at one particular tattoo. It was a large tree that covered the expanse of his forearm, the limbs branching out into numerous names, spelled by ancient symbols rather than letters- for safety, being as he wouldn't want someone to find the people who the names belonged to if he were ever to be captured. With a sad smile, he read the them aloud. “Scott, Lydia, Lana, John, Melissa...” he read them all aloud, fingers running down his forearm until he reached his elbow. The roots of the tree provided a few more names. “Claudia, Heather, Talia, Laura...”

It was the intake of breath that made Stiles's head snap sideways, over to where Derek was perched upon the window sill outside, hand poised as if to knock. It took Stiles a minute to realize that his mouth was wide open. Smacking his jaw shut, the young man scrambled out of bed and over to the window, unlocking it and shoving it open, hissing, “What the _Hell_ are you doing, stupid? You know the front door works, right?!”

Derek huffed and shoved past Stiles, ignoring the jibe. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and looked over Lana, eyes flashing blue as he inspected her. “How is she?”

Stiles shuffled, crossing his arms because of the chill the open window gave him. “Fine. Well, more than fine. She's alright. Doing better. She ate three full meals today, which is good. Pancakes, dinosaur nuggets, and steak. Healthy steak, a low-sodium, low-grease recipe of my own creation, actually. She managed to go without Scott or Isaac draining her pain all day, too.”

Derek nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed and forking fingers through Lana's hair. The little werewolf made a snuffling noise and nuzzled closer to the hand, her mouth dropping open a tad as she inhaled the scent of pack in her sleep. Stiles felt his heart go warm when Derek smiled at the child, kissing her forehead and taking a deep whiff of her Johnson's shampoo. “She smells healthier.”

“Good. That's good. Nice to know, thanks. I- I appreciate you caring, y'know...”

There were several akward moments of silence, upon which Stiles began to stretch mindlessly and Derek continued to pet Lana's head. Finally, Stiles broke and began whispering. “It's Jackson's and Boyd's turn to spend the night. Jackson pouted for a while, but we all know he adores Lana so he doesn't really mind. And Boyd seemed cool with it, but he got called in for an emergency wreck down on Brookman and St. George so he got upset. It took Jackson and I almost ten minutes to get him out the door, he's so worried. Dad and Mo- Melissa are asleep, I think-”

“Jackson's sweeping the perimeter,” Derek spoke, looking over to Stiles. “Allison came in a few minutes ago as backup while Boyd's out. I met up with them outside.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Of course, because I'm in a pack full over overprotective creeper-wolves.”

“Allison is human.”

“ _Not_ the point, Sourwolf.”

Derek fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Speaking of points, I...” It got quiet again, and Stiles was so done with the silence that he was about to throw Derek out until the beta stood, facing Stiles and licking his lips nervously. “You said that we... weren't being very platonic.”

“...And?”

“I- I don't _want_ us to be platonic.”

Stiles's lips twitched, stretching into a small smile. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head and enveloping Derek in his arms. The werewolf followed suit, engulfing Stiles into his leather jacket and nuzzling the top of his head, his scent covering them both. “I don't want us to be platonic, either.”

Even as a human, Stiles could hear the jolt of Derek's heart with he ear pressed to the werewolf's chest. Pulling back, he heard the older man whimper at the loss of contact, but when Stiles cupped Derek's face with one hand, pulling him down the inch it took for their lips to meet, Derek seemed to be okay with it.

It wasn't like any kiss he had ever had before, Stiles thought. It wasn't like his first kiss, thirteen years old at a party playing spin-the-bottle, and it wasn't like the kiss Lydia had shocked him out of his panic attack with back when they were facing the Nemeton and Darach. It wasn't anything like the heated, teeth-and-tongue kisses he had shared with the dhampir he had dated while in Romania, or the lust-filled make out sessions he had with the Fae in Belgium. It wasn't like anything he had expirienced before. Derek's lips were slightly chapped, but soft, and his beard rubbed against's Stiles's cheeks, giving a slight burn to the kiss. Their lips fit perfectly together, moving slowly and tentatively, barely touching and yet forceful in a way that made Stiles's heart do funny things in his chest.

Slowly, Derek pulled back, his thumb making circles on Stiles's cheek, his other on the small of the younger man's back. Sometime during the kiss, Stiles's own hand had moved to Derek's chest, the other wrapped around the back of his neck.

Hazel eyes met honey, and it wasn't long before they were both laughing, hugging each other tightly and exchanging tender, chaste kisses to cheeks and noses and lips. Shuffling came from the bed and suddenly Lana pounced on Derek's back, hugging his neck and snarling playfully. “Der! Der! I missed you!”

Derek grinned, swinging Lana about the room before pulling her into his chest with one arm, tickling her with the other. “I missed you, too, Lana.”

“But Der's not going anywhere for a while, _kochanie_ ,” Stiles interrupted, allowing Derek to pull him into an embrace, Lana pressed between them. The little girl howled happily, and Derek couldn't help but laugh. As he nuzzled Lana's hair, Derek twined his fingers together with Stiles's. _How long ago could I have had this if I had pulled my head out of my ass sooner? Thank God for Cora and Malia... Pain in the asses as they are..._

“Do this mean I can call Der 'Papa' now?”

Stiles laughed when Derek's face turned purple.

 

~ <> ~

 

The next morning over omletes- “Sorry, Lana, but Daddy's tired of pancakes”- Stiles and Derek sat Lana down and explained that, yes, they were in a serious relationship and no, they didn't know if they were going to get married and no, Lana didn't have to call Derek 'Papa', although the beta put in that she could if she wanted to.

Nearly as soon as she finished her omelete, Lana pulled on Derek's hand, crying, “Der! Der! Unc'a Peter says we can sled, right?”

It was then that Derek remembered the promise Peter made to Lana about the sled. The ice had already melted, as had the small amount of snow outside, but when Derek told Lana this, the little girl's lower lip had started to quiver and her eyes had glassed over. He quickly saved the moment with “But we can go mud-sledding!” And that was how Derek, Stiles, Jackson, Boyd, and Lana found themselves knee-deep in mud- or elbow-deep, in Lana's case- with trashcan lids and cardboard boxes.

Jackson picked Lana up, slinging her over his shoulders. After the fifth stain of mud had gotten on his 'Gucci' shoes, he had given up and tossed off his shirt and loafers before chasing Lana into the cold, wet dirt. Boyd had simply sat next to the sea of brown until Stiles pegged him with a mud-ball, resulting in a mud-fight. Somehow, it had ended with Derek and Stiles rolling around on the ground, kissing, Lana and Boyd watching with a disgusted face while Jackson complained loudly in the background.

When they returned to the Stilinski house, Melissa had met them out front with a hose. “Don't you even _think_ about stepping a single muddy _toe_ into my house!” After hosing them off, she sent Jackson and Boyd home to finished washing up, seeing as how Ethan's and Aiden's 'protection shift' was coming up in only ten minutes.

Stiles showered in the master bathroom, rubbing mud out of places he didn't know mud could get to and scrubbing until he was red and squeaky clean. As he dried his hair off, walking down the hall towards his bedroom, a certain high-pitched laugh made him stop and turn around towards the guest bathroom.

Derek, fresh from the shower in sweats and a too-tight tee-shirt, was spiking Lana's bubbly hair into a mohawk as the little girl squeaked a rubber duck at him, making faces and animatedly swinging her hands about as she recounted a stunt 'Unc'a Jack' had tried earlier. Stiles smiled nostalgicly, remembering back to when he was a child and his mother would bathe him in the master bathroom's wide-footed tub with bubbles and Slavic fairy tales. The emissary leaned against the doorway, watching Derek as the werewolf beamed at Lana, running one hand down to grab a washcloth and hold it over her eyes as he used a plastic cup to rinse out her hair.

“Where'd you learn to do that?”

Derek jumped, and Stiles had a hard time not laughing. He hardly ever caught any of the pack off-guard, werewolf or not, and catching Derek with bubbles on his shoulders and nose was just too priceless. Bristling, the werewolf scowled at his new boyfriend. “You could have said hi.”

“Hi!” Stiles exclaimed too cheerily to not be sarcastic as he plopped down next to Derek, taking the rag from him and scrubbing a piece of dirt from behind Lana's ear. She snarled at him, and he ignored it. “Where'd you learn to cover up her face like that? My mom did it the same way when I was little, and I do it for Lana, too, but I can't really imagine you as a little kid, so...?”

Derek shrugged, playing mindlessly with Lana as he put bubbles on her tummy and nose, making her growl playfully and flash golden eyes at him. “I was really close to Errin and the twins. Nobody except for Michael or I could get them in the tub, so whenever he was busy or out, nighttime baths became Big Brother Derek's job.” The pained longing in Derek's eyes made Stiles's stomach clench, and he took the man's hand, kissing his cheek.

“Well you can help out with Lana whenever you want. You do a great job of it, doesn't he, _słoneczko_?”

Lana nodded affirmatively. “Der is good at bubbles! An' _Kaczka_ likes him, too!”

“Is that so?” Stiles inquired with comically wide eyes, looking to Derek very seriously. “ _Kaczka_ is _very_ hard to impress. You should feel honored.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow. “Kaska?”

“ _Kaczka_!” Lana corrected him with a scowl, raising her ducky into the air and quacking it in Derek's face. True to his growth, Derek didn't snarl and flash werewolf eyes at her. He simply made a 'hm' noise that caused Lana to giggle.

As she went about playing in her bath, Lana took notice of her father's hands on Derek's, the way they looked at each other and hugged slightly, kissing each other tenderly and talking in low voices even though she could hear with her special ears. She frowned, eyebrows furrowed, as she took in the advancement. Of course, she knew all about mommies and daddies, and her Daddy had told her that some kids have two daddies and some have two mommies.

“So I gots two daddies now?” she asked in confusion, looking to her father and Derek. Stiles seemed shocked at the question, spluttering for an answer and groping at straws. In the end, it was Derek who stroked his hand over the top of her head and assured her, “Yeah, pup, you've got two daddies, now.”

 

 


	10. Knaanic and Cannibalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A newcomer arrives and Lana gets a little excited. Meanwhile, Deaton has come up with more questions than answers for the pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry about the delay! School has been wearing me out!!  
> ********TRANSLATIONS are not up this chapter, but will be up for the next one. So sorry about that!  
> (I don't own teen wolf. enjoy!)

“Are- are you freaking _serious_?”

Derek bristled, cheeks flushing. “Well, if you don't  _want_ to, then I guess-”

“No, no, no!” Stiles jumped to reply, hands going to grasp onto Derek's forearms. “I really, really _do_ want to, I just- it's just-” The man sighed, one hand going to his forehead as the other squeezed his boyfriend's wrist. “Everything's so... _jank_ right now. I'm terrified for Lana _and_ Lydia, and Lukas is supposed to be on his way here but I haven't heard from him in almost a _week_ and those- those- _whatever_ haven't showed up in almost _two_ weeks and I just- I don't- I can't-”

Derek shushed Stiles, pulling the younger man to his chest and kissing his forehead. “It's okay. We can do when all this is over, alright?”

Stiles nodded, smiling meekly up at the werewolf. “Thanks, babe. I really,  _really_ want to go on a date, y'know, it's just... not the right time...”

At that moment, Lana zoomed into the room screeching and giggling with Jackson on her heels. The older beta's eyes flashed and he lunged at her, grabbing her around the waist and rolling onto the ground with her hugged to his stomach, making 'nom nom' noises as he mouthed at her face. It made Derek grin and Stiles cackle, looking to his pack with eyes full of pure affection. Derek glanced sideways at the emissary, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing his temple as Stiles reached for his daughter. After valiantly wriggling out of Jackson's grasp, Lana leapt onto her father's lap and nuzzled up against him and Derek. She chirped on about something, playing with Derek's fingers and chewing on the tassels of Stiles sweatshirt.

Jackson stood and brushed himself off, smirking at the little werewolf. “She's a stinker, she is.”

“What'd she do this time?” sad stinker's father asked.

“Replaced the icing of an oreo with toothpaste and gave it to me.”

Derek laughed at this. “You're a werewolf. You couldn't smell it?”

Jackson grumbled something and Derek punched his arm. Stiles didn't ask.

Suddenly, all of the werewolves in the room were on alert. Jackson whirled around towards the stairs which led to the front door of the Hale house, shoulder blades pushed up as he snarled and lowered his chin. Derek gently pushed Lana towards Stiles, shouldering his way in front of the father and daughter. Stiles looked ready to object, but when Lana suddenly shifted and then pressed herself up against the emissary as if she was trying to fold herself into of his stomach.

“What is it?” Stiles asked Derek, grabbing at the other man's shoulder with spasming fingers. “Who is it? Is it the shadows? Demons? Whatever? What- what's going on?”

“Unknown scent-” Derek ground back just before Lana's eyes lit up in recognition and she gasped, jumping from her father's arms and darting around Derek and Jackson, screeching, “UNC'A LUKA!!” At this, Stiles leapt forward with just as much enthusiam- if not more- dragging Derek behind him.

Lana had already gotten downstairs and to the door before the adults behind her even saw a whisp of her beige pigtails. Fortunately, Danny was downstairs and had grabbed the littlest werewolf by her middle before she could fling open the front door. Derek made a hand motion to him, silently saying 'relax' as he peered out the peep hole. He asked Stiles, “Long ponytail? About six foot?”

“Six-two actually, but yeah.”

Derek opened the door to reveal the famed Luka. He was tall, lean like Stiles, with dirty tan hair tied in a knot and folded over his shoulder. He had freckles and piercing brown eyes, also similar to Stiles. The one thing that was different about the two was Stiles's softer jaw- Luka's was firm and sharp, along with his thick brows, that were much more reminiscent of Jackson and Derek.

“ _Witaj_ ,” the man said with a smile. “Is Gen-”

“I'M HERE! No need to use that nasty word, _kuzyn_ ,” Stiles interrupted with a nervous grin and chuckle, tugging Luka inside and hugging him. Derek stood back as he watched the cousins embrace, a nostalgic smirk on his face. The way Luka clung to Stiles so desperately, holding onto him with a firm hand and burrowing his face in the smaller man's neck; how Stiles enveloped Luka in his arms as well as he could, tears building in his eyes as his fingers spasmed around the other emissary's shirt. “ _Boże, myślałem, że już nigdy nie zobaczę cię znowu_...” Stiles hissed, only to earn a wet laugh from his cousin. Luka pulled away from the embrace, rubbing at his damp eyes.

“ _Nie możesz pozbyć się mnie tak łatwo_ ,” he choked out.

“UNC'A LUKA!!”

Danny let Lana go, which was good since she seemed an inch away from wolfing out to get to her beloved uncle. The little girl jetted towards Luka, squalling as she collided with his legs. Luka threw his head back in a laugh, face scrunching up in joy. He swooped down and swung Lana around in a big circle, drowning her in kisses and affectionate words in her native tongue. “Oh, _szczeniak_ , how I've missed you!”

She giggled and grabbed either of his cheeks, giving him a big _smack_ ing kiss on his nose. “I miss you, too, Unc'a Luka!!”

Luka positioned Lana on his hip, shuffling close to Stiles as he looked up at the others. The man took a deep breath, letting it go slowly. He began speaking hesitantly. “So... You are all Stiles's... pack? I'm assuming?”

Derek nodded. “I'm Derek Hale, primary beta. These are Jackson Whittlemoore and Danny Mahealani, both betas. Danny is newly turned.”

Smiling and offering his hand towards each of the werewolves, Luka introduced himself formally. “I'm Luka Lewandowski, primary emissary to the Lewandowski coven.”

“Nice to meet you,” Danny interjected before the begrudging formal talk could continue. “You're Stiles's cousin, yeah?”

“Yes, I am... And Lana's uncle, of course.” He looked to Derek. “I need to speak with you and your Alpha. I have useful information about the Koschei.”

“The _what_ -chi?” Stiles inquired as he took Lana from his cousin. The little girl nuzzled against her father, although one hand stayed wrapped around her uncle's shirt sleeve.

“ _Koschei_. The shadow demons.”

“You know what they are?!” Jackson exclaimed, wide-eyed.

Luka nodded gravely. “Yes. And I'm not quite sure whether that will make this any easier...”

“Well, shit.”

“Bad words, Un'ca Dann'a!!”

 

~ <> ~

 

“They are called _koschei_ , and they are about as old as the earth itself, if not older...”

Along with Scott had come Kira, and Allison with her. Scott sat at the head of the dining table- a dark oak sitting on top of a blood red carpet with a low chandelier hanging ominously overhead- with Derek at his right side and Kira at his left. It was the traditional pack placement, the Alpha with his primary and mate. Next to Kira was Allison, who was giving Stiles sideways glances of concern. Next to Derek sat Stiles, bouncing Lana on his lap as she scribbled on some paper with crayons. Peter hung back in the doorway, having appeared only God knows when to annoy the Hell out of Derek. Jackson and Danny were standing around the table as they watched Luka spread several old parchments and tomes, his eyes fixating over one before flitting to the next. It was humorous to see such a 'Stiles' action on someone else.

“I translated Magda's documents from Polish and Russian to English. Eh-hem...” Luka cleared his throat before reading. “'The _koschei_ are the unholy offspring of the _dydko_ and the _nichnytsia_.  The _dydko_ are Slavic bogeymen, while the _nichnytsia_ are night spirits. While _nichnytsia_ are typically harmless, when 'bred' with _dydko_ , monsters who haunt and terrify children, they become the unholy _koschei_ that feasts upon the souls of supernatural children and slaughter anything or anyone who gets in their way.'”

“Well that sounds exciting,” Peter drawled. Derek shot him a look, and the older man rolled his eyes, but quieted.

“Go on, Luka,” Stiles said with a shakey voice. Beneath the table, Derek rested his hand upon the younger man's knee, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Alright, then... Um... Here. 'They are primal beasts and therefore are easy to control when using the correct spells and/or sacrifices. Their name, _koschei_ , is derived from the slavic folklore of Tzar Koschei, the Immortal. His soul is said to be hidden from his body inside a needle, which is inside of an egg, which is inside of a duck, which is inside of a hare, which is inside of an iron chest, which is buried under a green oak tree, which is on the island of Buyan in the ocean. Tzar Koschei, the Immortal, is also know as Tzar Koschei, the Deathless. This is why the _koschei_ demons are called this- they are immortal and deathless. It is rumored, though, that they can be killed, seeing as how Tzar Koschei was killed in the old tale _the Tale of Koschei the Deathless_.'”

“Wait- so they _can_ be killed, we just have no clue _how_ they can be killed?” Allison asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, Magda had a few notes on that, too,” Luka said, handing a few papers to Allison and Stiles. “Can any of you read _Knaanic_?”

Stiles scoffed. “Can  _you_ read Knaanic?”

Luka snorted, eyes rolling around in his head. “No, which was  _why_ I asked you,  _głupi_ .”

“ _Hej_! _Nie jestem głupi_! _Jesteś głupi_!”

“Tch. _Ładny retorty_ , _pizda_.”

“OI! _Uważaj na swój język wokół dziec_!”

“ _Ona nawet nie wie, co '_ cipa _' oznacza-_ ”

“Um, excuse me?” Scott interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “I hope I'm not interrupting something terribly important, but... the koschei?”

Luka blushed lightly, and Stiles smirked at him, earning an elbow to the ribs. “Right. Sorry about that... Anyway, Magda had other notes, but I cannot read Knaanic, which is the language they're written in.”

“Are they notes on how to kill the koschei?” Derek asked, eyebrows furrowed as per his usual grumpy face.

Luka shrugged. “I honestly have no idea what they are. They could be classification documents, first-hand accounts, how to kill them... They could be anything. Do any of you know someone who can read Knaanic?”

It was Scott that piped up. “I think I know someone...”

 

~ <> ~

 

Deaton had greeted them at the door, saying he could feel the power radiating from the two younger emissaries. He had clapped Luka on the shoulder and exchanged hurried words in Latin with both men before leading everyone back beyond the mountain ash desks. Standing around in the back room, everyone watched Deaton carefully as he peered over the notes. Everyone except for Lana, who was holding onto Derek's and Stiles's hands and teetering between them, humming to the tunes of several different nursery rhymes. Stiles didn't miss the tender glances Derek kept sending her as he stole strokes to her hair, pats to her shoulders and cheeks, squeezes to her little hand.

“Unfortunately, I cannot read Knaanic,” Deaton said after about five minutes of silence. Stiles deadpanned.

“Seriously? Then why have we been standing around waiting for you to just look at the pretty pictures?!”

Deaton shot Stiles a frown. “You may be an emissary now, Stiles, but I am still much stronger than you. Keep that in mind.” Stiles bristled, opening his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Allison.

“Do you know of anyone who _can_ read it, Deaton?”

The man paused, chewing over his thoughts like a prime rib. _Well he certainly takes his time,_ Stiles sighed heavily to himself. Finally, Deaton turned and grabbed a few leather-bound books from his shelf. “These are a few old slavic books that Lydia may find interesting. They may help her translate the document, if she has the time.”

“Oh, and you don't?”

Once more, the older emissary sent Stiles a piercing glower. “No. If you haven't forgotten, Stiles, I have been working with Malia and Cora to find out more about the blackfire. Now that we have a name for the koschei, we may be able to find out the link.” He handed the books to Danny, who stepped out of the room to call Aiden and Lydia. “I have a few connections in Russia that may come in handy. I'll have to contact Malia's and Cora's pack as well to see if I can find more on the attacks there. Oh, and we did find something-” he rifled for a few more papers before turning to Scott and Derek, offering them forth. “These are cases of supernatural children being kidnapped. There was one case in Australia- a fold of _vetala_ \- where the fold was...” His gaze turned to Lana, who was now peering up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Perhaps Miss Lana would enjoy seeing the new litter of kittens that was born just last week? Jackson, could you take her to the back, please?”

Noting the obvious change of subject, Jackson swooped up the little girl before taking her to the back room- althought not before Scott and Stiles assured him they would fill him in fully later. Deaton cleared his throat. “That child has been through enough, from what I hear. She needn't be plagued by any more nightmares.”

Stiles rubbed a hand down his face. “That's for damn sure... Now, the vetala fold?”

Nodding, the vet handed a few grotesque pictures to Stiles and Luka. “The entire fold was killed off in numerous ways, although the favored way was inversive combustion.”

“ _Combustion_?” Scott repeated, mouth opened wide.

“There isn't a much gentler way to say it. The bodies suffered fourth degree burns to the innards of their bodies, including the brain, lungs, and other intestines. The oddest thing, though, was the heart.” Deaton pulled out one more picture, this one showing a corpse with the chest cut open wide. The innards were charred and blackened, but the thing that stuck out most was the empty space in the cavity where the heart should have been.

“Hearts cut out of them?” Derek inquired.

“Only the bodies had no external injuries besides defensive wounds around the hands and mouth. The same has been shown in another pack of werewolves in Bulgaria, two covens of witches in Mongolia and Argentina respectively, and a _crocotta_ pack in Ethiopia.” More terrifying pictures were procured, all showing corpses with burned internals and missing hearts. “There are only a few things that can do this. One of them being-”

“Blackfire?” Peter's voice rang out for the first time.

Deaton dipped his head. “When inhaled, blackfire ashes can cause third- and fourth-degree burns to internal organs. Only I've never heard of blackfire picking out and destroying hearts completely.”

“So we think the koschei are stealing the hearts?” It was Stiles this time.

“Perhaps...” Deaton's voice faded out as he turned to look at his table where Luka and Scott had spread out the documents. “This is a case like none other I've seen... Hunters and koschei working in tandem... blackfire killings with missing hearts, but no wounds...” He shook his head. “Whatever is going on, Stiles, you and everyone close to you are in danger. Be cautious on who you include in this battle.”

Stiles snorted, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands. “A bit too late for that...”

 

~ <> ~  
  


 

 

“Daddy?”

“Hmm, _kochanie_?”

“Can I go play wif Unc'a Izzy an' Unc'a Luka ou'side?”

Without looking up from his books, Stiles nodded, waving a hand to his daughter. “Be safe.”

“Okay, Daddy!” Lana called over her shoulder as she darted out to where Isaac held the back door open for her. Being a hyperactive five-year-old, Lana required a lot of attention- attention her father wasn't able to give to her at all times. Being a single dad was hard enough, but being a single dad-emissary-who-is-fighting-to-save-your-life-from-evil-shadow-demons was even harder. Fortunately, now Stiles had the pack to help him keep his little girl entertained.

Lana giggled loudly, shifting in the privacy of the Hale house back lands, and chased after Isaac. The curly-haired werewolf was running just slow enough to keep the younger wolf on his heels, allowing her to claw at his jeans a tad. Luka was watching with a grin, arms crossed. Isaac rounded back towards the emissary, 'hiding' behind him as Lana darted over, stumbling over her little feet. Luka caught her, tickling her stomach. “HAHA! Unc'a Luka! S-S-Stop! Tickles!”

Luka sat Lana down on his lap, sitting on the stairs to the deck. Isaac perched next to them, smirked amusedly when Lana began to messily braid her uncle's ponytail. “She does this a lot,” Luka said sideways to the other man.

“She likes to play with Allison's and Kira's hair every once in a while, but I haven't much noticed her doing any braiding.”

Luka chuckled. “Probably because she can't _actually_ braid.”

“Can too!” Lana protested, holding up a grotesque frankenstein of a braid proudly. Luka grinned at her, nuzzling her nose with his.

“Good job, _szczeniak_ ,” he replied, trying to keep a straight face. Isaac snorted. Lana huffed at him, going back to her uncle's braid in an attempt to right it. Luka glanced towards Isaac.

“So... how's the weather?” he asked unsurely.

Isaac smirked. “Pretty boring. Not a great conversation starter. So... What's your favorite color?”

“Blue!” Lana chirped, grinning.

Luka gave her a funny face. “I thought it was yellow?”

“I changed't!”

“Mine is green,” Isaac replied promptly to the girl, who nodded as she digested the new information, going back to the braid.

“Probably brown for me,” Luka said, turning to face Isaac fully. “Um... your favorite... animal?”

Isaac snorted. “Well, not a wolf. I've always been fond of elephants.”

“I like wolves,” Lana growled, glaring at Isaac.

“I'm sure Uncle Isaac likes wolves well enough, _szczeniak_ ,” Luka calmed her, stroking her head. “It's just like how when you have too much chocolate and you get a tummy ache. Uncle Isaac has had a bit much of wolves, and he gets a tummy ache sometimes.”

“Oh... What an'mal you like, Unc'a Luka?” Lana peeped, instantly forgetting her frustrations with Isaac.

“I like... sheep,” he said after a moment of thought.

“Why's that?” Isaac snorted

Luka's eyes met the other man's, and he cocked an eyebrow. “I tend to lean towards curly hair.”

Isaac blushed.

The back door opened to reveal Derek, dressed in sweats and a henley. “Dinner's ready.”

“ _Der_!” Lana exclaimed happily, trotting over to him and jumping into his arms. She nuzzled his chin, and he replied with a happy grumble in his throat. When the beta looked at the other men on the porch, however, one of them blushing a bright pink and the other with a satisfied smirk, he shook his head. “Get inside, you two. We don't need Lana smelling anything _new_ and questioning it, do we?”

This time, both men were blushing.

 


End file.
